


temptation

by onemorepineapple



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU sasuke, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, Angst ish, BAMF Haruno Sakura, F/M, Forbidden (ish) Love, Humor, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sexual Tension, no beta we die like men, priestess sakura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27782533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemorepineapple/pseuds/onemorepineapple
Summary: He’s a soldier, meant to blend in the darkest part of the world and descend in the shadows. She’s a priestess, thriving in the sun and meant to shine. He is darkness, she is light. He is sin, she is pure. They are opposites as contrasting as the cold, harsh winter and warm, gentle spring.And they could so easily taint each other.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 279
Kudos: 273





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 'tis it's own. taken from my series through rain or shine because my brain was like yeah lesss go. more wips. yaaayy....
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own naruto. what i do own is over one hunned different forms of pineapples (i think last i counted i was actually close to two hunned) also don't own hostage by billie the first three chapters titled with the lyrics :) billie is forever my mood lol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cover art commissioned by myr over at tweeters!

__

cover by: [@sorceressmyr](https://twitter.com/sorceressmyr/)

DO NOT REPOST!!

* * *

_i want to be alone with you_

_does that make sense_

There is nothing but the sound of the wind howling as she sets the broom down and wipes her brow, looking out into the vast white as the snow falls in flurries. It’s peaceful. This time of year always is. She lights a few more candles around the honden and starts to head out when she hears a commotion. 

“Forehead-sama!”

She rolls her eyes.

“Ino-pig, what-”

“There’s a man- a soldier we think- at the shrine entrance!” She sounds entirely giddy but Sakura tenses.

“Don’t make contact, I’ll be right out.” She quickly dashes to her room and grasps her bow and arrow, flying through the halls until she reaches the sando. The muttering of the other priestesses grows quieter as she reaches the stone stairs and the wind continues to roar around her, stirring her hair and clothing. 

Sure enough, a man is standing in the middle of the torii. Green eyes take in his appearance, critical, from top to bottom. Raven hair flutters in the wind, slowly becoming white from the snow. His mask is porcelain, pointed at the nose and adorned with crimson stripes on either side. It reminds her of a hawk. His shoulders remain uncovered, showing off lean muscles not covered by arm guards. A white vest covers his torso, thoroughly coated in blood, slashed and torn up revealing a black shirt and there is a strap along the front, holding his sword. A holster wraps along his left leg, no doubt harboring kunai, and his black pants tuck into black boots. There is blood splattered beneath him.

He is a stark contrast against the white surrounding him and something in her starts to burn.

She nocks an arrow and takes aim.

“What is your business here, soldier?” Her voice carries easily, strong and firm, through the storm.

He remains silent, mask directed at her, and she feels as if she’s on fire despite standing in the middle of a snowstorm, every nerve in her body igniting. She pulls a little tighter, grip secure, body posed and ready, “I will not ask again.”

His voice travels just as effortlessly and warms over her as if she’s bathing in the hottest spring, coating her entire being in the richness of his timbre.

“I am in need of shelter from the storm.”

No mentions of his injury. She supposes many soldiers are stubborn and perhaps asking for shelter is enough for him and his pride. The bare skin that she can see is red and chapped. He’s been out here for a while. She debates letting him in, remembering the stories about these soldiers, the ones with such masks. But she knows there’s not much else for miles and any cave or shelter outside of the shrine will be covered in snow. 

“One night. You will be gone by morning.”

“Aa.”

She lowers her weapon and he walks up the steps, graceful, silent and the closer he gets, the more she feels consumed by him.

Once he is at her side, she turns and they make their way towards the shrine, their steps completely in sync. His presence is powerful, intoxicating. Sneaking a glance at him, she notes he is quite tall and she can almost make out the outline of a strong jaw beneath the porcelain. Her eyes trail lower, tracing over the tattoo on his arm, a swirl outlined by a smaller one, red and contrasting against his pale skin. His neck turns slightly and she snaps her attention to the women curiously looking on.

“Hinata, please heat up some soup for our guest.”

“Ye-yes, Sakura-sama!” The violet-haired priestess bows and strolls quickly in the direction of the kitchen.

“Ino, see if there are any yukata for him to wear,” the blonde eagerly gives him a once over and winks before marching off and she turns to Tenten, who is eyeing him with hard brown eyes, “Ten, please bring me some supplies from the medicine room. The rest of you get back to your duties, now, or would you like an extra task added on?”

Several of the other women scurry, a chorus of _yes sakura-sama_ ringing through the hall. 

She steps ahead.

“That's unnecessary.” She knows he’s talking about his injury.

“The moment you stepped onto the grounds it became necessary. I will not allow you to track any more blood on my floors, it is difficult to clean up.”

“Your floors?” He sounds slightly amused.

Eyebrow ticking, she turns on her heel, leading him through another hall. “The head priestess is away and left me in charge in her absence. So yes, my floors. My temple, my maidens, _my_ responsibility.” She whips around, staring up at him with blazing green eyes. “You will do well to mind your manners while you are here and show some respect, soldier.”

It could be the lighting of the flames burning around them but she is sure there was a flash of red through the eyes of his mask. She turns back around and he falls back into step with her and she tells herself the flames of the torches and candles are keeping this fire burning within her.

They reach her room and she grabs a couple of towels from her washroom, laying them on her bed and ushers him to sit. It doesn’t take long for the others to bring the requested items and leave just as quickly (although Ino tosses her a saucy wink before shutting the door). Sighing, she kneels beside the basin of hot water, and organizes the bandages, needle, and thread. She stares pointedly at him.

He begins to unbuckle the vest and lays it neatly next to the bed before lifting his black shirt, untucking it from his pants and slowly works his arm through the sleeve. The wound is larger than what she’s expecting, the long gash taking up almost the entirety of his right side. She can see the traces of ice and snow from a quick tending to the wound.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out.

She fixates on the laceration, trying hard not to stare at his well-defined muscles. It’s not as if she’s never seen a man before (granted they’re fully clothed…). Jiraiya-sama and his perverse group of monks visit regularly so there should be no reason for her to feel- she presses her lips together. Dipping the rag into the basin, she lightly dabs it to his injury, pausing momentarily. He makes no noise or movement so she continues to wipe around it, cleaning up the dried blood, ice and dirt. The water is red by the time she’s done and she threads the needle.

“Would you like something to bite down on?”

“I'm fine.” His voice doesn’t waiver.

Humming, she pinches the skin together and ignores the way her fingers burn at the contact. His muscles flex but his breathing continues to remain steady. She wonders how much of this is his strength and how much is pride and stubbornness. When she’s done, she wipes away the blood, smoothing a salve over it and starts to wrap a bandage over his torso. Her chin brushes his shoulder as she leans forward to circle the bandage and she tries to keep her breathing steady.

By the time she’s done, her entire body is warm and she clenches her fists into her hakama before rising and cleaning everything up, taking his tattered and dirty clothing with her. 

“You may use the bath to clean yourself up, be mindful of the bandages. You are not to leave this room. I will come to check on you in a short while.”

With that, she leaves and once the door is shut, she finally feels like she can breathe again. 

* * *

The other women were in an uproar and she feels a headache forming ( _sakura-sama, is he handsome? was he a gentleman? is he like the monks that visit? forehead-sama, did you offer to share the bed?_ ). After a couple of hours barking orders at them and increasing their duties for the next week, they finally heeded. Once she’s finished hanging his clothes in front of the fire, she heads back to her room. 

The fluttering in her stomach is irksome. 

She is a priestess, committed, honored. One man will not break what she has vowed to uphold.

She knocks and waits. 

“Come in.”

The moment she opens the door, her body ignites. His mask is still on, pointed in her direction and he is kneeling on her bed, arms folded within the yukata. His hair is partially damp but seems to be more disheveled somehow and she itches to run her hands through it. The sword he carried in lies next to him, within reach. Absently, she adjusts the quiver strapped to her and sets down the warm rocks, repeating over and over _she is a priestess, committed, honored, one man will not break what she has vowed to uphold._

“These should help keep you warm for the night. How was the soup?”

“Flavorful.”

Her lips tilt up. “Hina-chan likes to experiment with spices. I’ll let her know you enjoyed it.” She reaches for the empty bowl when his hand strikes forth, long fingers circling her wrist like a snake would its prey.

Eyes narrowed she turns to glare but words die on her lips as she looks through the holes of his mask and into eyes blacker than a starless, moonless night. They hold something there, something she’s only ever dreamed about in the darkest corner of her mind, in the darkest part of the night when she’s alone, curious, wondering. Something that curls in her stomach, dropping between her legs and she feels an ache that she’s never felt before. She’s sure he can feel how much her pulse quickens and snatches her wrist away.

“What did I say about being respectful?” She straightens up, bowl in hand and takes three steps back. His hawk mask seems fitting now, because she feels like his gaze is as watchful as one, seeing everything within her, sharp, focused. “Once your clothes are dry, I will bring them and then it’s lights out.”

She’s halfway into opening the door when he says,

“Sakura,” and she tries very hard not to shiver.

Swallowing and with probably too much bravado, “Sakura- _sama_ , soldier.”

A pause. “Sakura- _sama_ ,” and (even though he says it slightly amused) she thinks that’s so much worse. The ache coils. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The door snaps shut but she can’t catch her breath this time around.

* * *

This is the last time. This is the last time she’s going into her room, with him in it, for the remainder of the night. She just needs to drop his clothes off and she’ll be done. 

“Come in.”

She didn’t even reach up to knock. Silently cursing (and she’ll say a prayer for that later), she opens the door and thinks maybe she should leave it open, it would be… virtuous of her to do so. 

She shuts it, heart pounding, hands shaking.

“I did my best in repairing the damages, but it should hold you enough to get you home. I was also able to find an extra cloak to help shield you from the storm,” she looks out the window. “It doesn’t appear to be letting down anytime soon.”

“Hn.”

She sets the clothing down swiftly and turns _she needs to go_ , only to find him standing in front of her and _how did he move so fast, so quiet_. Her fingers clench around her quiver as she looks up at him. His presence once again flows through her, captivating, enticing. 

“What made you become a priestess, Sakura- _sama_?” His voice trails over her like the softest silk, tickling over every inch of her skin.

Her nails dig into her palm and she defiantly shoots back, “What made you become a soldier?”

Through the holes of his mask, she can see the faintest hint of humor in his eyes and wonders if he’s smiling behind it.

The moment he touches her skin, everything electrifies and she has to bite her lip to stop it from trembling. His hand curls along her cheek, fingers brushing softly at her hair, tucking it behind her ear before moving down to the hand clutching her quiver. He unravels her fingers and holds her palm up. With his other hand, he traces her callouses.

“How long have you been practicing archery?” 

“Since I could grasp the bow with my hands.”

He hums and continues to delicately trace, eyes locked onto hers and they gleam red once more for the briefest of moments.

Breathlessly, she asks, “Are you a demon?”

Amusement flashes. “I have been called that…” he murmurs. “Why do you ask?” She notes his questions seem to have an underlying tone, quiet, commanding.

And she can’t help but obey. “It feels like you- you’re putting a spell on me…”

His finger halts in its movement and he drops her hand, bringing both of his to cup her chin and tilt her head more, eyes burning into her.

“I can say the same for you. Don’t priestesses harbor spiritual powers?”

“No in the literal sense…” she mumbles. “Monks are said to have spiritual powers, too.”

“Aa,” he brings his masked face closer to hers and she can almost make out every eyelash, long and dark, surrounding his sharp eyes that hold promises and want and things she can _not_ be thinking about. “I can say for certain a monk has never… _tempted_ me as you are right now.”

_Tempted._

The word rolls over her in a wave of pleasure and the hairs on her neck and arms stand up. She can feel her nipples harden and her toes curl on the tatami. 

She lets out a shuddered breath. “I need to leave.” But she doesn’t want to. She so so doesn’t want to.

“That is probably wise,” he murmurs and it’s clear he doesn’t want her to leave, either. 

They stand there for an endless amount of time as he holds onto her face with warm hands that she wishes would hold her entire body, tonight, tomorrow, _for the rest of their lives_. It takes every ounce of strength to pull away from him and she feels cold when his hands drop to his sides.

“You’ll need to be gone by sunrise.” Her throat is constricting.

“Aa.”

He steps around her and for a moment, pauses at her side. She closes her eyes as his knuckles brush against hers and she imagines them falling onto her bed, lips touching, fingers searching, legs tangling- He takes another step forward and she once again loses the warmth of his touch, feeling cold, empty.

She pauses in the threshold, squeezing her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. Without turning around, she closes the door behind her and runs as far away from her room as she can. She visits the chōzu-ya, cleansing her hands and mouth before stepping foot into the honden, where kneels by the altar, desperately trying to resist the temptation to go back.

* * *

Sunrise filters through and with heavy steps, she moves to her room and stands outside the door. He’s gone, his presence a lingering memory now, one she will think about when she’s alone, in the dark, and wondering, curious. The yukata is folded neatly by her bed, as are the bedspreads but when she leans down to pick them up, something glistens. A necklace, sitting atop the clothing. She picks it up, delicately, inspecting.

The chain is silver, short in length and a small ornament dangles in the center. An uchiwa, red and white, glints in the light filtering in.

She clasps it around her neck, settling it underneath her kosode with a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! nothing really changed for this first chapter, nor the second. everything else beyond these two will of course be new lol.
> 
> your input is always appreciated, i love interacting with ya'll! 
> 
> (taken from kuriquinn, thought it was a cute idea if you don't know what to write ;)
> 
> ❤️️ = I love this story!  
> 😳 = this was hot!  
> 💐 = thank you for sharing this  
> 🍵 = tea spilled  
> 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!  
> 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!  
> 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER  
> 😢 = you got me right in the feels  
> 🤯 = mind blown  
> 🤬 = mfing cliffhanger  
> 😫 = whyyyyyyy?!?!?


	2. Chapter 2

__

cover by: [@sorceressmyr](https://twitter.com/sorceressmyr/)

DO NOT REPOST!

* * *

_i don't know what feels true_

_but this feels right_

_so stay_

A resounding slap indicates Jiraiya-sama and his monks have arrived. Shaking her head, she heads towards the sound of reprimand and half-hearted apologies. As usual, Jiraiya is lying on the floor, a lump on his head and one of the priestesses is straightening up her hakama before turning to leave, some of the other maidens and monks following her. No one bothers to help the old man stand up.

“Sakura-chan!”

She turns to see a blonde monk running towards her.

“Naruto!” 

She’s engulfed in a warm embrace and pulls back to see his familiar grin softening his features, bright blue eyes sparkling at her.

“How was your journey?” 

He walks alongside her as they make their way through the shrine, enthusiastically telling her of their mostly mundane traveling. He talks about one of the villages they stopped at and when he mentions seeing soldiers in masks, her hand reaches up to touch the necklace beneath her clothing. 

“-their masks were pretty cool, ‘ttebayo! One was like a bear and oh-! Didn’t you have a soldier request shelter here a few weeks ago during the storm? What was he like?”

Powerful. Intoxicating. Capable of tearing down everything she worked so hard to build. _Tempting_.

“He was… a soldier? I don’t really know how to describe him, we didn’t interact all that much. He did seem kind of stubborn, though. He almost wouldn’t let me tend to his wound.” She tries not to think about his muscles and the way her finger felt against his skin. 

“Wow, what kind of mask did he have on?”

“A hawk.” 

They walk in silence for a moment as she reflects on the man that seems to have left a brand in her mind. She’s sure Naruto is contemplating what being a soldier must be like. Freeing, limitless, unbounding were his usual words associated with them. It’s a topic they’ve discussed over the years, but not one she’s ever taken into consideration, until… 

“Do you ever think about what it would be like if we didn’t grow up here?”

All the time now. “Sometimes…”

She follows his line of sight and her heart squeezes as he looks at Hinata in a way that can only be described as longing. A feeling she is now well acquainted with. It seems… foolish. That she feels she can understand their love and longing because of one man she barely spoke to. She never even saw his face. Perhaps she is foolish but her hand stays clasped on her neck, yearning sinking deep into the pit of her stomach.

“It’s not like I hate what I do, because I don’t. It’s rewarding and peaceful at the best of times but... “ he sighs, forlorn, and she hears the desperate wonder in his voice, echoing her mind. “But what if we weren’t confined to promises and oaths? What if we could be free? Like the soldiers…”

She places a hand on his shoulder, heart pounding.

“I-” she has to clear her throat. “Perhaps they wonder the same? A life as a soldier is not kind, Naruto. They face death every single day and while it may look freeing, I’m sure they are bound in ways very similar to us.”

His smile is saddened. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I just…” he looks back over to Hinata, laughing at something Ino said.

“I know.” And she does. There’s a moment of silence before,

“So, what kind of weapon did he carry?” His tan face is eager and eyes sparkle with interest.

She laughs and tells Naruto (most) of the details regarding the enigmatic soldier.

* * *

Not long after the monks arrived, Tsunade sent her to help with a birth in a village a week’s travel away. The journey was uneventful and when she arrived in the small village, they greeted her with open arms, hearts, and homes. Most villages tend to. It’s heartwarming to know they offer such respect and she enjoys interacting with the villagers and most often, will offer what she can in return for their hospitality in the form of education and herbs. The birth was thankfully successful, very little complications struck the mother and the child and she was able to leave plenty of herbs and medicine for the family to last the first couple of months. 

The wind picks up and she stops in the road, clutching her cloak tighter. The snowfall from the storm covers the roads and trees for miles and miles. It’s peaceful, looking out into the white, but she knows she’ll need to find shelter soon and she’s pretty sure there’s a cave somewhere-

“Well, well, what do we have here boys?”

With expert ease, she takes her bow from her shoulder and nocks an arrow, pointing to the three men behind her. All three have worn brown cloaks on, with the same leer on their dirty, scarred faces. Bandits. 

“Looks like a priestess has strayed from her shrine, what shall we do-” he lets out a scream as an arrow pierces through his leg. Blood coats the snow in spatters.

She nocks another one and lets it fly to a second, hitting him in the shoulder and he falls backwards, red sprinkling behind him. One more arrow is nocked but the third moves, running towards her and she has to dive left into the snow to avoid him. She adjusts her position, snow flying around her, bow and arrow pointed but he kicks her, boot hitting her cheek causing her to fall to the ground. Wincing and grunting back a cry, she scrambles up but is stopped short when he grabs her hair and pulls her head tightly towards him. 

She refuses to cry out or scream. 

“She’s feisty,” he leans forward, breath and tongue rolling against her ear and she grits her teeth. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.” He jolts up barking orders at the two injured men groaning, trying to dislodge the arrows. 

Her eyes fall on a stray kunai. 

He tugs her head back a little, still talking to the two others and with one deep breath moves forward to snatch up the weapon. Her hair is pulled tautly and his grip only tightens, moving his fingers towards her scalp and she reaches behind her and slices through her hair, toppling over. On her hands and knees she crawls forward and turns just in time to see him dive. 

She swipes the kunai at him, watching and feeling the blood speckle from the laceration in his neck. His hand rises up and her head jolts to the left sharply from the impact of his hand, rust filling her mouth. She brings up her knee and connects between his legs and he lets out a yell as she stabs the kunai in his shoulder, shoving him off with renewed strength. She just needs to reach her bow and arrow-

Her legs are pulled back and she’s clawing at the snow, fingers near frozen, clothes soaking, and she’s shivering too much but she can almost reach- _almost-_

White and red fade into black.

* * *

She startles up, breath heavy, eyes wide, searching, _searching_ \- She clenches her bow and sliding an arrow out of her quiver, pointing and looking around the cave she finds herself in. There’s a small fire next to her, illuminating the dark cavern casting shadows along the walls and the blanket that was wrapped around her lies tangled on the stone. It’s tall enough to where she can stand fully, but otherwise very small, very cramped. Her heart is pounding, mind reeling and-

Her arrow flies towards the entrance.

A hand snaps up, catching it before it can penetrate.

She nocks another and sends it quickly, only for it to be caught by another hand. She grasps another arrow, heart racing, fingers trembling _dammit_ and she feels like she’s suffocating from the presence, consumed and-

Green eyes shoot up as he takes a step to her. Her breath hitches, eyes wide on the hawk mask that has not left her thoughts for _weeks_ _upon weeks_.

“I wasn’t aware close combat was a requirement to become a priestess.” 

His voice wraps over her like a blanket, safe and warm. 

Her weapon falls nimbly from her fingers and he sets the two arrows he caught into her quiver. She’s at a loss for words, unable to form the massive thoughts piling in her mind _what happened, where did he come from, why did he save her, why can’t she forget him_ -

She feels breathless. Tears are prickling the corners of her eyes. His hand cups her jaw, gentle, but she winces feeling the bruise from the bandit pulsing on her cheek. 

“I- uhm what- what happened?” The flames dance below them, contouring the mask and she once again sees a flash of red beneath. 

“One of the bandits hit you over the head with a rock.”

Fingers curl into her hakama. She doesn’t feel different, doesn’t hurt anywhere that she didn’t get hit. Relief washes over her.

“And they-”

“They’re taken care of.” His words are clipped, cold. 

She swallows, throat constricting. His hand drops and he sits, stoking the fire. She quietly settles down on the rough floor, wrapping the blanket around her. The fire crackles, reverberating through the cave, filling the silence.

“I… suppose this makes us even now.” 

“Hn.” His mask directs to her and she feels like she’s being devoured, skin prickling from his gaze. “We were even the moment you put that on.”

Her hand flies to her neck, fingers circling the small fan. The wind howls beyond the cave and she looks out, barely able to make out anything through the vast darkness and flurry of white. A storm passing through. She clutches the blanket closer and fixates her gaze on the tattered edges of her red hakama.

“Thank you.”

“Aa.”

Why is it so difficult to talk? Is this not what she dreamed _fantasized_ about in the darkest hours of the night (not _exactly_ like this obviously)? A cup enters her vision and she takes it, pressing her lips together as their fingers brush, muttering a _thank you_. She sips slowly.

Finally, she asks, “What were you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Her finger taps against the cup.

“There’s a village a few days away, I was assisting with a birth.”

“Do you always travel alone?” He sounds… irritated?

“Yes. To answer your earlier inquiry, Tsunade-sama made sure all of us were capable of handling ourselves on the road.”

He snorts. “A lot of good that did.”

Rage blooms. “Excuse me?”

His masked face snaps to her and she’s sure he’s reflecting the glare she’s sending him.

“If I hadn't been traveling in that direction you’d be dead or worse.” He’s definitely annoyed, furious.

As true as his statement may be, she does _not_ appreciate his words or implications that she shouldn’t be on the road by herself. Where does he come off?

“I was still able to defend myself and while things might have turned out…” She doesn’t want to think about it. “Regardless, the gods have-”

“Gods be damned- you were being reckless-”

“Reckless! I was doing my job, helping a family and then traveling back to my home! There is nothing reckless-”

He’s standing up, towering over her and she grits her teeth, standing up to meet him, head bent backwards to look up at him but she refuses to be intimated. 

“You’re a priestess! Traveling alone, with nothing but a bow and arrow-”

“A bow and arrow that hit their targets and-”

“I didn’t see any kill shots, you-”

“I didn't want to kill them! Life is sacred, it’s meant to be protected-”

“And who the fuck is supposed to protect you while you protect the bastards who were going rape you and leave you for dead? The _gods_?”

This- he- she cannot _believe_ \- The blanket drops, tumbling below her, and she shoves a finger to his white vest, furious, insulted, _how dare he_.

“Don’t! Don’t you dare insult me by dismissing my beliefs and my entire being. The gods were looking after me despite sending a complete asshole to help me!”

Their breathing filters the small space, mingling with the crackle of the fire. She can see through the holes of his mask that his eyes are closed tightly. She goes to withdraw her finger when he clasps his hand around it and then he entwines their fingers together and it’s like two puzzle pieces joining, whole, complete. Her breath hitches. He steps forward, she steps back, repeating until her back is against the cold, damp wall of the cave. 

Her body is trembling, no longer from anger. Even through his armor, his body feels hotter than the fire glowing behind them and he’s _so close_. His fingers tighten and she feels his mask rest on her shoulder. After a several pounding heartbeats pass, her other hand twitches and she can no longer resist. Hesitantly, she tangles her fingers in his hair, thick, coarse from the weather and he lets out a soft sigh, leaning into her more. She closes her eyes.

She’s unsure how long they stay like that until he straightens up, bringing his other hand to her hair. 

Oh. 

“How bad is it?”

She feels his hand stop right at her shoulder and she exhales. Her hair has never been cut before, although she doesn’t feel disappointed or saddened. Rather, she almost feels invigorated. Ino will not be happy.

“My friend will be upset but she’ll be able to fix it up.”

“You’re not?”

A smile forms. “No, a small sacrifice- necessary. Even if I was too weak to-”

“You-” The cold of the porcelain touches her forehead and the dark pools staring at her beyond the mask sparks all her nerves, piercing through her, “you are not weak, Sakura.”

It’s so hard to breathe.

The hand in his hair pauses, shaking. There’s something shifting in the air and she can once again imagine them tumbling to the cavern floor and she wants to feel him, touch him, be _consumed_ by him-

“What…” she swallows a lump, “what did I say about respect, soldier?”

Eyes flash in amusement. “Forgive me. Sakura- _sama_.”

Their hands drop and he pushes off her and she’s empty, cold, aching. 

“Get some rest.”

She curls by the fire, blanket secure around her body, observing as he leans against the stone wall before shutting her eyes.

* * *

Sunlight shines through the cave entrance as she clasps her cloak. It’s stiffened from being soaked with snow and has spatters of crimson and trails of dirt. She’s sure she looks just as worse for wear and dreads the reactions of Tsunade and the others (specifically Ino she just _knows_ her hair is going to send her friend into convulsions). There’s a split in her lip and the rust of blood seeps in through the chapped skin. Her cheek is still pulsing, swollen, and her eye is partially squinting, sore from the pressure below it. 

His gaze drills into her and she once again feels warm despite the cold air brushing past them. She faces him, taking in his dark tousled hair, porcelain mask that has more crimson than before, and observes as he fastens his black cape. He’s a shadow, meant to blend in the darkest part of the world. The opposite of her. He is darkness, she is light. He is sin, she is pure. 

She opens her mouth to say goodbye, to catch her breath, to let his memory linger where his shadow waits, but he outreaches his hand. He will walk with her for as long as he can. She looks at his long, calloused fingers outstretched from the fingerless gloves he dawns and she places her smaller hand, though no less calloused, onto his. 

They could so easily taint each other.

He helps her down from the cliff and they walk in sync through the snow-covered grounds. She fills the silence by telling him her story, how her parents left her at the shrine entrance during a warm spring day, cherry blossoms fluttering along the ground, tickling her sleeping face, blending in with her light pink hair. Or so Jiraiya likes to say. Tsunade tells her she was screaming and choking on the petals. 

She hears him snort, a semblance of a laugh, and bites back a grin, continuing.

Most of the women don’t stay for long, more to complete their training and return to their families. However, over the years, they’ve gained a few more permanent priestesses to help around the shrine as Tsunade gets older. Like Ino, Tenten, and Hinata, the latter of which family was not pleased when she stayed.

“She’s the heiress, is she not?”

“She was, now her sister Hanabi is set to inherit everything,” she glances up at him. “Do you know the Hyuuga’s?”

“I’m… acquainted with them.” His response is quiet, almost tentative.

This might be the closest she’ll get to finding out his identity, but there are many who are _acquainted_ with the Hyuuga’s. She carries on, telling him Ino is a heiress as well to the Yamanaka fortune and land, set to marry Inuzuka Kiba before she decided to stay. 

“Aa, and he left to travel with Jiraiya.”

He’s aware of the Inuzuka clan as well if he knows Kiba’s decision to leave his family. “Yes, once Ino decided to stay he decided he’d take his chance to stay… as close to her as he can.” 

“Priestesses and monks can marry.” The way he states it makes her throat dry.

“They can… yes. Like Tsunade-sama’s niece, Shizune. She left a couple of years ago to marry and is expecting a child soon. But those of us who have taken a vow, pledged ourselves to our work and the shrine…” she trails off, not wanting to finish. When she made the vow, she was confident her duties to the shrine would be all she wanted. 

He stops and she turns around, facing him, heart threatening to burst from her chest. His form becomes blurred from the tears clouding her vision. He lifts a hand and wipes at a fallen tear, careful to not put pressure on her swollen cheek. 

“If I delay any longer…”

She nods, stomach tightening. Missions, she’s heard, are what soldiers like him are sent on. Through whispers and rumors they consist of reconnaissance, espionage, assassinations… she wonders which is his duty today.

“Thank you,” her voice carries through the chilled breeze brushing past them.

His hand drops and in the instant his foot moves, her hand strikes out, gripping his cloak with a deathgrip. Her body is moving on its own accord, her mind only thinking, _wishing, praying_ they could have longer together. With both of her hands at either side of his masked face, she pulls him to her, closing her eyes, and plants a delicate kiss on the spot where his mouth would be.

Then there’s nothing between her hands, nobody in front of her. Knees buckling, she tumbles to the cold, wet ground tears streaming down her face. Sniffling and taking a deep breath, she stands up, sorting out her clothes and makes her way to the shrine.

When she arrives their reactions are as she expected, many tend to her, asking question after question, helping her out of the dirty clothes. Tsunade nods, knowing she is alright, and Ino _forehead what the hell did you do to your hair!_

And once more, a hawk comes to her in the night, remaining in her mind until the sunshine filters through her room.

* * *

Her stomach is fluttering, nerves jittering in anticipation of arriving at the estate. The gates bid her welcome, as do two guards who escort her to the main house. Tsunade received word the Uchiha’s are in need of a priestess to help with the pregnancy of the heir’s wife. She has suffered miscarriages before and in desperation, reached out to Tsunade for aid and being younger, wiser, and far superior (or so the older woman tells her), Sakura has been sent. 

_Fugaku wasn’t pleased when I said I wouldn’t come. He’s an old coot, prideful, stubborn, I have no doubt his wife was the mind behind this so don’t let him bully you._

She’s helped with plenty of births, helped bless plenty of families, helped the sick and dying, and even helped rebuild smaller villages torn from destruction. But this… The Uchiha’s are royalty, more so than the Hyuuga’s, Yamanakas… The front door opens and she’s greeted with a stern looking man, glowering down at her with hard, black eyes. The woman next to him, _beautiful_ , smiles kindly at her. 

“You must be Sakura-sama, please, come in. I’m Mikoto and this is my husband, Fugaku. We hope your travels found you well.”

“I- I-” she takes a deep breath. “Yes, travelling is much easier now that spring is a breath away. Thank you for your hospitality, Mikoto-san.”

“Nonsense, dear. We are the grateful ones for your time and presence with us. Please, follow me and I’ll take you to your room.”

When Mikoto turns around Sakura’s heart stops.

Realizing she isn’t following, the older woman turns with an inquisitive look. “Is everything alright?”

She’s trembling, hands gripping her bag with white knuckles. 

“I- yes I’m sorry, I was just admiring your e-emblem.”

Her smile remains kind. “Oh, thank you, dear. It’s our family crest.”

She can’t breathe and brings a shaking hand to the neck of her kosode, tightening it so as not to give any glimpse of the small ornament that matches perfectly with the crest, and numbly follows Mikoto through several halls, mind whirling.

Once they reach her room, Mikoto leaves her to settle in _come find me when you’re done and i’ll show you around_ and shuts the door behind her. The pack drops from her hands and she rushes to the balcony door, sliding it open with fervor and tries to breathe in the air around her, fingers grasping the railing, tight. What- surely, _surely_ this is a-

A twig snaps and she looks up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! :)
> 
> comments/kudos always appreciated! i see you and i love you!
> 
> ❤️️ = I love this story!  
> 😳 = this was hot!  
> 💐 = thank you for sharing this  
> 🍵 = tea spilled  
> 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!  
> 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!  
> 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER  
> 😢 = you got me right in the feels  
> 🤯 = mind blown  
> 🤬 = mfing cliffhanger  
> 😫 = whyyyyyyy?!?!?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short little pov from sasuke regarding their first, and part of their second, encounter.

__

cover by: [@sorceressmyr](https://twitter.com/sorceressmyr/)

DO NOT REPOST!

* * *

_i want to steal your soul_

_and hide you in my treasure chest_

He sees the world in shades of black and white and colors of red _crimson, scarlet, blood_. He spends his time hiding in the shadows, waiting for his moment to strike. Like a snake would its prey, he latches on and waits for their last breath of life before he moves to the next. This is his duty. This is who he is. Who he must be to uphold his place in his family. 

All he ever wanted was to measure up to his brother. To prove himself worthy to stand by his side but… ( _i want more for you foolish little brother, there is more that can be offered to you outside of duty_ ). What more is there? He doesn’t think there is anything. His father, while clear in his preferences, finally _sees acknowledges_ him as he takes on more responsibility. His mother, insisting his father is just inept in displays of affection and warmth, tells him he is loved and to return home safe. 

He snorts. Like there’s ever any doubt he _wouldn’t_ come home safe. He may not be Itachi or Shisui but he’s fucking close enough. Although now… Now he wonders exactly how they would handle the predicament he’s currently in (knowing deep _deepdeep_ down they wouldn't have underestimated his opponent like he did dammit).

The wound in his side is numb, numb from the snow he placed on it to reduce the bleeding but he needs to take care of it soon. He takes in the scene before him, red eyes observant, focused, sharp. White for miles upon miles. The wind is picking up, roaring in his ears, cutting through his exposed skin, blistering and freezing. Any cave he might come across will surely be buried and difficult to find. The next town is too far and at the rate he bled out and is _still_ bleeding out, dripping onto the white beneath him-

More red.

He zeroes in on a torii in the distance, tall, calling to him like a beacon. Two miles out. It takes him little to no time to approach the shrine entrance and he glances up to see three priestesses gawking at him before they scurry away. He hears them call for someone and waits _impatiently_ but his mother taught him to be respectful (and he will always listen to his mother, if sometimes reluctantly). Besides, barging into a shrine filled with priestesses isn’t something he’s keen on doing (he’s not catching up to Shisui in that sense). 

He feels unworthiness flood his senses and looks at the shade of red surrounding him. How ironic that he, an assassin, a stain on the world, seek shelter in a place that holds hope and life and things he’s only dreamed about. Things Itachi tries to tell him of _do not let our family destroy you little brother_. 

He hears footsteps, soft but fast approaching and looks up-

He stops breathing.

For the first time in his life he sees color. Varying shades of pinks and greens outshine the colors he’s so used to seeing and they are vibrant, lively, _pure_. Distantly he hears her demand something, her tone confident, sturdy. She straightens up her pose, bow and arrow locked on him. 

Green blazes and he burns with it.

“I will not ask again.”

He tells her he needs shelter from the storm. He can handle his wound once he’s alone. He watches her study him, eyes hyper focused on every detail of her long, rose pink hair tied behind her neck, falling beyond her waist, to the deep emerald of her eyes and the traditional priestess clothing she dawns, white and red but somehow… somehow two colors he’s lived with his whole life have taken on a new shade.

She tells him one night.

He wishes for more.

* * *

One woman, one _priestess_ marches into his vision in a flurry of color and threatens to burn down everything he’s worked his whole life for. As he watched her stitch his wound, feeling her fingers grazing _searing_ his skin, he thinks he’s indeed foolish. She’s a priestess, bound to the shrine and he, an assassin, bound to the shadows. But then she comes back, and she offers a smile and he-

It’s clear she feels it, too. Whatever this is that’s gnawing the back of his mind, short circuiting his brain and compelling him to _reach out and touch_. Her touch, her spark, _her her her_. Everything she does threatens to swallow him whole, to take him to a place that he could have never dreamed of.

As he holds her hand, tracing the callouses on her palms and looking into her bright green eyes speckled with _golds yellows_ , he now understands what Itachi meant by there being more. His eyes spark to life and he brands her image in his mind, intent on remembering her beauty for the remainder of his life. The way her hair flows around her, the way her pale skin is flushed from the cold and from _him_ , the way her rosy, chapped lips part, the way her chest moves with her breathing; he takes in the perfections and imperfections, every line, wrinkle, _everything_.

She is what he could have if he wasn’t tied to life as a soldier.

She is a temptation of a life without obligation and darkness.

She is more.

His knuckles brush her skin and he imagines with her, imagines they fall to the bed, imagines him touching every inch of her skin with his lips and hands, imagines her under him, imagines-

He has to move and he watches her leave, back tense and straight, and the door shuts behind her. 

It takes a while for him to sleep and when he wakes he wants nothing more than to seek her out again, to see her one last time, but he can’t. He has duties, he has a mission. All his nerves pulse as he unclasps the necklace and places it on the borrowed yukata. More than likely she won't know what it means, won’t be able to identify it or him, but… If he ever sees her again and if she’s wearing it… He sighs.

The first ray of sunlight rises and soaks the room in warmth. His family crest glistens in the light. It’s the only thing he can leave behind, the only thing he can offer her. If they meet again, he is sure to put a stain on her and the world will once again fade to shades of black and white and colors of red _blood blood blood_.

She is pure, she is light. He is sin, he is darkness. But they could- He shakes his head and ties the cloak around his neck.

Their paths will never cross again.

* * *

He was wrong.

And he needs to hurry.

He sees shades of pink flutter in the harsh wind and runs, entering the scene just as she's knocked over the head with a rock. Strands and chunks of her hair settle in the snow a few feet away and her hand is just touching her bow. There is white and red everywhere. His eyes flash up to the three bandits, blazing hell fire and their screams echo in the quiet, cruel winter air. He does not leave any remains.

Picking her up with ease, he takes note of her injuries, mostly her cheek, lips, eye and head. Her hair is now jagged, uneven, and he thinks she's fucking annoying for being out here by herself but at the same time... At the same time, she is a warrior, seemingly more than a shrine maiden and if at all possible, he's compelled to be with her _more_. He cradles her to his chest, gathering her things, and pauses when her kimono falls open just a little.

She wears his crest.

After countless weeks since their first encounter he has not stopped thinking about her and she- she hasn't stopped thinking about him. He searches for a cave and wonders if this is a sign of the gods or if this is only a reminder of his damnation. To hold something so pure, so colorful, so beautiful so close to him and never have a chance of knowing life outside his duty, his obligations, his darkness.

The gods are cruel, then, and he's determined this will be the last time he sees her. Her entire essence is enough to swallow him whole but he cannot be tempted. He will only stain her.

He thinks over and over and over that they will not meet again. They can _not_ meet again. Even as he molds their hands together, even as he breathes her in, even as she tangles her fingers in his hair and makes him _feel_ and _see._ And when he sees her off, staying with her as long as he possibly can before duty must be upheld, he takes in everything about her from her uneven rose hair, to her glistening jade eyes, to the black and purple swelling her face, to the tattered, bloodied, dirtied clothes- once more, _memorizing, branding, searing_. 

She steps forward, cupping the sides of his face beyond his mask and closes her eyes. 

They can never be together it's too hard, too tempting and they can never meet again because surely they will fall and consume each other, duty be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's a little more angsty, isn't he? i wrote this at four am, in between writing the actual chapter three lol whydoesleepevademe. i mostly want to stick with sakura's pov in this, but there's a good chance i'll toss sasuke's view in here again. i'm also just free flying this hoe, i have a hint of a plot so we'll see what happens (we're all in this together...).
> 
> thank you for reading! :) i appreciate any comments/kudos/what have you and hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ❤️️ = I love this story  
> 😳 = this was hot!  
> 💐 = thank you for sharing this  
> 🍵 = tea spilled  
> 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!  
> 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!  
> 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER  
> 😢 = you got me right in the feels  
> 🤯 = mind blown  
> 🤬 = mfing cliffhanger  
> 😫 = whyyyyyyy?!?!?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what. she's bringing you two chapters? :o  
> enjoy.

__

cover by: [@sorceressmyr](https://twitter.com/sorceressmyr/)

DO NOT REPOST!

* * *

_gold on your fingertips_

_fingertips against my cheek_

A twig snaps and she looks up.

A man stands just a few feet away from the porch, grinning at her. Dark, curly hair tousles in the wind and he takes long strides to her, the melting snow crunching beneath him. When he reaches her she thinks he’s quite tall- taller than most men she’s come across, even the soldier. His shoulders are broad, stretching the black shirt he’s wearing and coal eyes twinkle at her. 

“Hello there. You must be the priestess,” he bows before outstretching his hand, grin never leaving his face. “I’m Shisui.”

She can feel her face heating up as she places her hand in his and he brings it up to plant a small kiss on her palm. 

“Sakura.”

His eyes brighten and she’s reminded of Naruto. “My, how fitting. You are exactly what I imagine spring would look like in the form of a beautiful woman.”

Oh my. She _almost_ forgets her thoughts until he turns and she sees the red and white fan on his sleeve and her stomach drops. Right, the mysterious soldier is-

“Itachi! Look who I found~!” He’s still holding her hand, using his other to wave at someone slowly approaching.

Her gaze turns towards the man drawing closer, gait strong, fluid, _silent_ (there’s no crunch, no sound of his footsteps at all) and his eyes are on her, equally as black as Shisui’s (who is still holding her hand) but so much more intense and he reminds her of the soldier. But- but she knows this isn’t him. His presence is powerful, yes just like the soldier’s, but also calm and refined. His hair, as black as ink, is long and tied in a low ponytail, long bangs surrounding a face that is almost too pretty but holds a certain lethality. His arms are folded within his yukata and he offers her a polite smile and the stress lines underneath his eyes lessen.

“Shisui, I believe you’re making our guest uncomfortable,” he glances down to their joined hands, which detangle and drop to their sides.

“Ah, my apologies priestess, I by no means want to make you feel uneasy.” His expression turns sheepish.

She catches her breath. “I- no, you’re- it’s okay. You actually… you remind me of one of my monk friends. It’s… refreshing.”

“Oh?” He beams. “Did you hear that Ita-chan? I remind her of a monk.”

His smile turns amused. “Priestess, I must ask you to refrain from doting on my dear cousin, his head and ego are big enough.”

Her face flushes more. “O-oh- I-” she exhales deeply, trying to take control of her fluttering nerves. “Please, call me Sakura.”

He bows and she returns the gesture.

“Itachi. Have you been here long?”

“Oh, no, Mikoto-san just showed me to my room and I… was wanting to breath a bit of fresh air before she showed me around the estate.”

“Sakura-chan,” yes, he’s definitely reminiscent of Naruto, “it would be our pleasure to escort you.”

“Aa, come Shisui, let’s inform mother. Sakura, we’ll meet you back here momentarily.”

“I- oh, okay.” She watches them walk away (Shisui with a wink and she momentarily misses Ino-pig) and steps back inside.

Okay. She sets her cloak on the bed and runs her hands over her hakama, nervous, restless. Okay. It’s clear that the soldier is… is an Uchiha. If the _uchiwa_ wasn’t a giant indicator, the dark, coal eyes they all seem to share is. The family is rather large, she knows. So, the chances of actually running into him might be slim. But- but it shouldn’t _matter_. It’s not as if… she runs her hands over her face and through her hair, which now falls just below her chin. Ino trimmed it up before she left in preparation for staying here for the remaining months of the pregnancy and potentially a couple of months after to monitor. Months that will now be spent with-

 _Dammit_.

This- it doesn't matter. She is here to assist in a birth, preparing the family for a new heir. This is her mission, her vow, what she must uphold as a priestess. If she meets with the soldier, well, who’s to say he’ll even acknowledge her… She sighs. Maybe if she keeps her interactions with the Uchiha outside of the main house limited, she’ll be okay. 

It’ll be okay.

* * *

Itachi and Shisui are polar opposites. Truly, Shisui holds many of the same qualities as Naruto (optimistic, rambunctious, funny, _loud_ ) and aside from the blatant _teasing_ , he’s pleasant to be around. Itachi is more reserved, well-mannered, _intelligent_. He carried on a conversation with her regarding herbal remedies, something only Tsunade and Shizune have only been able to do without being bored or lost. And she came to find out he is the heir and it is his wife and child that she will be spending her time with.

Through the escort around the compound, she learned to read the subtle expressions Itachi (and sometimes Shisui) displayed. There is no doubt that he is worried about his pregnant wife, but he hides it well. And when they brought her to meet Izumi, she was blown at the softening of his eyes and the love that went unspoken between them. The longing that has latched in her mind since that snow stormy night only increased, but she shoved it aside because she has more important things to tend to. 

Izumi is lovely; with long, chocolate brown hair and beautiful grey eyes and a kind, sweet personality… Sakura is determined to do everything in her power to make Izumi as comfortable as possible and to make this pregnancy flow just as smoothly. She ushers the two men out ( _sakura-chan if you need anything my home is not far from your room_ ) so she can speak with the woman alone.

She lights a candle and says a prayer. Thankfully, she came prepared for the escort and brought some of her supplies, and begins to sprinkle dried leaves and herbs in a mortar, grinding with the pestle, careful to only crumble and break up the leaves. 

“May I ask what you are mixing together, Sakura-sama?”

“Sakura is fine, please. And of course! I was actually discussing with your husband what herbs I brought, he’s quite intelligent.” Izumi smiles _very much so_ and she continues, “I have alfalfa here, this will help with some of your symptoms such as nausea and will increase your milk production. It offers a lot of necessary minerals your body will need to supplement having a growing child in your womb. Oat straw will help with tension and again, offer you minerals and nutrients. And then chamomile for your joints and for taste.”

She finishes grinding the herbs and pours some into a cup, taking the tea kettle that was brought to them earlier and fills it with hot water.

“As you progress, I will change up the ingredients to suit your needs but for now, I would recommend you drink this at least twice daily, perhaps in the morning and then in the afternoon. I’ll also make a tea specifically for you to drink before you sleep, infused with a little more chamomile and peppermint.” She laughs softly. “I hope you enjoy tea.”

“Oh, I do.” A delicate hand reaches out to rest on her knee. “Sakura, truly, thank you for being here. It's been… difficult for Itachi and I.” There’s a pain in her eyes that clenches Sakura’s heart.

She squeezes back gently, determined. “It’s an honor to be here with you, Izumi-san.”

“Izumi is fine, Sakura.”

They begin to chat, with Sakura asking general questions to determine the length of pregnancy (still in her first trimester) and how and when the miscarriages occurred. They speak of her current symptoms, the time and how often and soon fall into a friendly chat. She tells Izumi of her time at the shrine, how she was found and raised by Tsunade. She mentions Shisui reminds her of her friend and they share a laugh.

“Shisui is quite the character, he doesn’t quite fit the mold of most Uchiha men.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, yes. You’ll learn,” she states with a wink. “He’s been thrilled to have Itachi around the home. Since we learned of our pregnancy, Itachi has halted some of his other duties in favor of being around more. He worries, of course, and I think he feels some guilt because the first time he wasn’t here.”

A small smile adorns her face, though her eyes fill with tears. “But we got through it, together.” She wipes a stray tear away. “My apologies, Sakura. I don’t mean to bring such a heavy discussion.”

“Nonsense, no such topic is taboo around me. I thank you for sharing your story, Izumi. You’re a strong woman and we will take this day by day.” She offers the brunette a handkerchief.

Her smile brightens and after a moment of silence, she continues.

“Thankfully, Itachi’s younger brother has been able to pick up the responsibilities he can no longer take on. Although, I’m sure he’s not excited to be stuck in a room with several of the elders discussing politics.” They share a small chuckle.

Being an heir is hard work. Hinata and Ino shared some of their struggles as heiresses (and the reason why the two chose to stay at the shrine) and she has no doubt Itachi’s load is any less (in fact, she's sure it's more with him being a male and well an Uchiha). She finishes tying up a small pouch of the herbs and ponders what Izumi mentioned.

“Itachi has a younger brother?” She doesn’t recall Shisui or Itachi mentioning him.

Izumi hums and sips her tea. “Sasuke, he-” 

A knock comes to the door before it slides open to reveal a smiling Mikoto, “Hello, I was hoping to procure the both of you to help with dinner.” 

The two women stand and follow the matriarch through the halls, outside of the small branch house and towards the main house (maybe she’ll be able to make herself a small map later).

Sakura feels she has to warn the matriarch as they get closer to the kitchen. “Mikoto-san, I have to admit I’m not the best cook… but I am handy with a knife.”

“That’s perfect. You’ll have vegetable duty, then.” She winks.

A little while later, the three women are laughing as Sakura chops vegetables, Izumi stirs a broth, and Mikoto forms onigiri. It doesn't take long for her to feel comfortable, both Uchiha women seem to be very open and accepting, making her feel very at ease. 

“...so, Jiraiya-sama and Naruto thought they could be stealthy and utilize that small area. What they didn’t calculate was Tsunade-sama and Ino being directly where the weakened board was and once it was lifted-” she pauses and smacks her fist to her palm and the two women laugh. 

“We’ve met Jiraiya many times, he is quite the character- oh, Sasuke! You’re back early.”

Sakura turns momentarily to see the newcomer and-

She lets out a cry as the knife slices into her finger. Pressing her lips together, she moves to the sink, running the water over it, watching as the red mingles with the clear liquid. 

“Sakura, are you alright?” Izumi offers her a rag and she wraps it tightly around her finger.

“I’m fine, it’s not too deep. I’m sorry I hope none of the vegetables are ruined.” She can _feel_ his gaze prickling, intense, piercing into her an arrow but she can’t bring herself to look back at him. “I just- I need to bandage it up, put some medicine on it. I’ll- I’ll be right back.” 

Thankfully, he’s on the other end of the kitchen and she exits swiftly, moving quickly through the halls to her room (after going down the wrong hall twice). She leans her head against the door, trying to slow her breathing. He was dressed casually, dark navy shirt and black pants, hair wildly disarrayed, and his mask- his mask was _gone_ and she could _see_ his eyes widen, _witness_ how his lips parted in shock and her mind blanked thinking only _it’s him it's him it's him_ and well, her finger now has a gash.

She opens up her medicine bag and withdraws a salve and some bandages. She almost sliced off the tip and she should really stitch it up- A knock jolts her.

Her shoulders are tense as she slides the door open and relief washes over her as Mikoto smiles at her, a small look of concern adorning her motherly, charming features.

“Do you need help?”

“Uhm, well if you wouldn’t mind…” She blushes somewhat and lets the older woman guide her back into the room.

Mikoto stitches her finger expertly (in the back corners of her mind she wonders if she’s ever stitched…). Muttering a _thank you_ , Sakura starts to wrap a bandage around her finger as the Uchiha matriarch leaves to finish dinner _come out when you’re ready, dear_. She checks her clothing for any blood spots when the door slides open again.

The air dispels from her lungs.

A thick, heavy tension surrounds them as they stare at each other. Absently, her hand goes to the necklace, tucked securely under her robes and his eyes follow the movement. He intakes a breath and meets her wide-eyed gaze again, taking a step forward. Her heart jumps with it. He takes another step and her heart thuds again. She opens her mouth, but closes it. His hand reaches out before quickly retracting to his side in a fist. 

What do they do? What do they say?

Slowly, she stands and carefully walks up to him as if he’s a woodland rabbit that will scurry off at any moment, even as she feels like scurrying away herself. While his face remains mostly inexpressive, she can see the slight widening of his eyes and the wonder, curiosity, _fear_ ( _does he feel it too the uncertainty of their meetings, the ways they are bound and at opposite ends of a string, pulled taut and threatening to break at any moment_ ). Her bottom lip is quivering from the emotions coursing through her and her hand trembles with it as she reaches up to gently brush away the long bangs falling into his eyes.

Her fingers spark when she grazes his cheek.

He is far more attractive than she imagined he would be and she can feel her cheeks flush. He is beautiful, he is captivating, and his presence encircles her-

“You look like your mother,” she blurts out.

That… she doesn’t know what she wanted to say, but she knows that was _not_ it (as true as the statement may be).

He blinks once, twice and a brow quirks, along with the slightest tilt of his mouth. Her heart thuds and she draws back, letting her hand fall to her side and fiddles with the cloth of her hakama. She never imagined she’d see him again, much less be staying with his _family_ for months and gods this is going to be so much _harder it will not be okay_. She chews on her lower lip and braces herself, for what she is still uncertain.

“Sa-Sasuke, I-”

He straightens up, entire body tense and he turns. “Dinner should be ready now.” 

She blinks and he’s gone. Neither will know what she might have said (but she knows what his name tastes like on her tongue and it felt _good_ ).

Sighing, she rubs her face and exits her room.

* * *

Dinner was… intense. She thinks that word is one she finds well suited to the Uchiha’s (particularly the patriarch whom she has no idea how to interact with). While her dinners at the shrine were lively and filled with conversation, dinner at the Uchiha table was… quiet. Literally, rarely did any of the members make any noise (except Shisui and at this point she wonders if he does it on _purpose_ ), eating and sitting gracefully, fluidly. There was some semblance of a discussion at the beginning, between Fugaku and _Sasuke_ , but once she stepped into the dining room, it halted.

She spent most of the time studying each of them (minus Sasuke… she… she can’t) and is drawing the conclusion that their entire family consists of the masked soldiers. They _all_ have a certain… lethality to them, just as she noticed when she met Itachi. A quiet calm before a storm. Shadows waiting to consume the light. 

She feels immensely out of place.

But she does her best. Once dinner is finished, she offers to clean up and Shisui, with his careless grin, joins her, asking her questions and inquiries about her time at the shrine. She stands at the sink, washing and handing the dishes to Shisui who dries and hands them to Sasuke who runs another towel over them and puts them up. She’s thankful for the older Uchiha essentially acting as a wall between the two of them (he’s tall and broad enough that’s for sure).

“Oh, and I’ve always heard priestesses like to keep their hair long, is that true? If so, what prompted you to cut it?”

(she almost thinks any visit to see Naruto after this will be too soon)

“Years ago, many did, but Tsunade-sama is less strict than most and while many of our shrine maidens have longer hair, my aunt Shizune, and a few others keep theirs short. As for me,” she absently runs a hand through it, toying with the edges and out of the corner of her eye she sees Sasuke’s eyes narrow, “I ran into some bandits and made a quick escape from one by cutting my hair.” 

Shisui beams. “Ah! I knew that bow and arrow I saw you walk in with were more than just for show. Tell me, I’ve heard rumors about Tsunade’s training, perhaps one day you can enlighten me, Sakura-chan?”

She laughs. “If you think you’re faster than my arrows, I’d be happy to _enlighten_ you, Shisui- _kun_.”

A plate crashes to the ground and they turn from the sink to see Sasuke kneeling down, picking up the broken pieces. 

“Sasu-chan! How clumsy of you. Don’t worry, you can watch Sakura and I to help with those uncoordinated hands of yours.”

She presses her lips together to bite back her laughter as the younger Uchiha stands and tosses a glare at his cousin. He directs his gaze to her and a trail of fire shoots up her spine and she turns back to the sink, intent on washing the dishes.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?” He says through gritted teeth (and if she were looking at him, she’d note the smallest hint of a blush on his neck and ears).

Shisui notices the blush (and he noticed during dinner how she studied every one except his dear little cousin).

“Perhaps one more time, Sasu-chan.” 

She hears a sharp inhale and coughs to cover up her laugh and glances up to see Shisui wink at her. They finish the dishes and when she begins to head to her room, Shisui grabs her hand and spins her around, bringing her hand up to his lips, planting another kiss on her palm.

Her face flames and he winks at her again before tossing a mischievous smirk to her left, where she knows his younger cousin is standing. 

“Have a wonderful night, Sakura-chan.”

“Good-” she clears her throat, “good night, Shisui.”

She sneaks a sideways glance. He’s glaring in the direction Shisui went, sharp jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides before he focuses his eyes to her and they glint red and she wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her because there are no flames dancing around them to reflect such a shade. 

They are once again wrapped in heavy silence until,

“Did you have any trouble getting here?” His voice pours over her like warm spring rain.

“Oh n-no… It was uneventful.”

With every step forward he takes, her heart leaps and when he reaches her, his hand draws up, clenching, then unclenching, before he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, twirling the edges between his fingers. She breathes him in

“Are you keeping it short?” 

“I think so… I had Ino cut it before I came in preparation of being here and will probably have her cut it when…” She swallows a lump and barely chokes out, “When I go back.” Her stomach twists at the thought. Never has she dreaded going back to the shrine.

“Aa.” There’s something unreadable in his gaze and she feels like she’s drowning in his eyes, swimming in a black abyss and then he’s stepping back and she loses the warmth that seeped over her. “Good night, Sakura- _sama_.”

He smirks and she thinks she might have a heart attack and her face heats. She's out of her element here, treading along his territory now.

“U-uh… Sakura… is fine…” In a quiet whisper, she says, “Good night… Sasuke.”

It takes her a long time to fall asleep and when she does, she dreams of her hawk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's pretend that tea tastes like heaven and not absolute trash lol. also, most everything i know about miko stuff is coming from inuyasha and rei/sailor mars from sailor moon and tons of research on the google. i'm trying to be respectful and hope it's coming across that way! 
> 
> first time i'm also writing the uchiha's so in depth. eehhhhhh 😬 hope i'm doing them justice.
> 
> your words/kudos are always appreciated! thank you so much for reading!
> 
> ❤️️ = I love this story!  
> 😳 = this was hot!  
> 💐 = thank you for sharing this  
> 🍵 = tea spilled  
> 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!  
> 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!  
> 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER  
> 😢 = you got me right in the feels  
> 🤯 = mind blown  
> 🤬 = mfing cliffhanger  
> 😫 = whyyyyyyy?!?!?


	5. Chapter 5

__

cover by: [@sorceressmyr](https://twitter.com/sorceressmyr/)

DO NOT REPOST!

* * *

_i don't know what to do_

_to do with your kiss on my neck_

He slowly sinks down on top of her, breath tickling her skin, nose running up her neck, lips skimming her jaw, hands sliding under her yukata and touching her, gliding over her as if she were fine silk, _caressing, delicate, soft._

“Sakura,” he murmurs, low, husky, and she knows if she opens her eyes it will end. 

So she keeps her eyes tightly shut and whimpers out his name, pleading that he touch her, consume her, _love her_. 

The sun begins to filter into the room all too soon and when a ray of light shines over her eyes, they snap open and she tries to catch her breath, bringing a hand to her sweaty forehead. Her head turns and she stares out into the yard, dewey and glistening from the morning glow, patches of white fading away as the days grow warmer and warmer. 

Her eyes flutter shut once more and the memory of her dream, his touches, his voice echo in her mind and it’s as if he’s with her, his very being filling the room and she jolts up, looking around just to make sure he is in fact _not_ here. Rubbing her eyes and face, she gets up and prepares for the day.

As she’s adjusting her priestess robes, there’s a rustle and she turns around to see Sasuke standing by the balcony, dressed in his uniform. The hawk mask is laying atop his head, tousling his hair more. His stare is intense and she almost wishes he would put the mask back on. It’s almost too much to be able to _see_ his face beautiful, strong, carved from the finest marble. 

Softly she asks if he’s leaving. 

He nods. 

“Do you…” she takes a deep breath. “How long?” 

“I should be back in a couple of days.” 

She’s not sure who moved first or when but she finds herself standing in front of him in the middle of her room. What does she say? Be safe? Please come back to me? Is it right for her to do so? Right to continue sinking deeper into something that threatens to drown her?

“Why are you… here?” Hesitant, breathless, unsure. 

He seems to struggle with his words, opening then closing his mouth. Emotions flicker through his eyes that are too quick for her to decipher before his bottomless gaze magnifies and a hand curves along her cheek and it fits so easily.

“So I can memorize you,” murmured, soft, unwavering.

Gods.

A blush forms on her cheeks, but she can hear the underlying statement _in case he doesn’t come back_ and that thought threatens to rip her apart. It’s a thought that haunted her for many, many nights after she saw him a second time, wondering if she’d ever see him again and if not... As her pounding heart beats along her chest, she gently moves his mask and places it along his beautiful face, moving as if she's in a trance- 

“Come back to me.”

-unable to control her actions and she brings quivering lips meet his mask once more, just as she did when they parted last. 

And then he’s gone but the atmosphere in her room remains heavy and it takes her several long minutes to collect herself. She’s kissed him. Twice. But not really _kissed_ him just… she tries to tell herself it’s different but she spends a little longer praying before she leaves her room to spend the day with Izumi and Mikoto. 

* * *

He told himself he would stay away from her. As soon as he saw her in the kitchen, as soon as she retreated to tend to her cut (and to get away from him there’s no denying that), he knew he needed to stay _far far far away_. They were never supposed to meet again. He _promised_ he would never meet her again because they are doomed to fail. And yet, here she is, in his home, planning to stay for months upon months as she cares for his sister-in-law and niece or nephew.

He hasto stay away.

But he fucking _can’t_.

She draws him in. In her world of colors and purity and promises neither can uphold. 

The urge to feel how soft her lips are against his is _almostalmostalmost_ enough to make him turn around and rip the door open. He debated on seeing her before he left and he’s sure it was the _wrong_ thing to do (he almost caught a glimpse of something he’s sure would make him forget his duties and barricade them in her room). But he _needed_ to see her face once more. How many times during their weeks upon weeks apart did he spend picturing that last time he saw her (the forever last time he was _supposed_ to see her) tattered, bruised, _strong, exquisite_. 

He needed to see her because while he’s confident this mission will go smoothly (simple recon he can do in his sleep tch), there’s that one slight semblance of a chance that something doesn’t go smoothly and he wants any present glimpse of her he can get. He wasn’t expecting her to do or say anything and now his lips itch to go back _without his damn mask this time_ and press to hers even if he stains her, even if it’s wrong, even if-

“I saw that.”

Typical. 

The gods truly hate him. 

He inhales _deeply_ and turns to see his cousin, perched on the fence, grinning.

“You saw nothing, Shisui. Fuck off.”

“Oh? My mistake then,” he winks.

Sasuke grinds his teeth.

“Don’t be so broody. Maybe you should try talking to Itachi, he’s-”

“He’s got enough to deal with.” He’s not going to bring his brother into this. Not when there really isn’t _shouldn’t_ be anything going on.

“Ah, so you admit that there _is_ something to see?” Dammit. He glares at his happy-go-lucky cousin who continues, “She is very pretty, I was quite awestruck myself when I first saw her. But… I must say that little exchange I saw- could it be you two have met _prior_ to her joining us?”

Twitch. “It’s none of your concern.” 

“If you say so dear cousin…” Shisui’s eyes blink worry momentarily before he straightens up with a look of glee. “Have fun and _come back to her_.”

If he could get away with killing his cousin, he would (but Shisui is the fastest out of all of them and there’s no point in wasting his breath). He leaps off the fence and begins his trek towards Ame, to his duty, to his world of black and white and crimson shades, far _farfarfar_ away from pink and green and pure smiles and temptations.

* * *

It doesn't take long for word to get around the village of Konoha that a priestess is in town, staying with the Uchiha’s. Several families have requested her assistance and for the last couple of days, she’s visited many homes, cleansing each room, placing ofudas of luck, prosperity, happiness, safety, wards against evil, and any monetary payment she receives, she sets aside to purchase leaves and herbs for when she runs low. She’s just on her way back from one home when she spots a young man with long, cocoa brown hair tied in a loose ponytail, passively eyeing her with familiar pearl eyes.

She walks up to him with a smile. “Hello!”

“Priestess.” His arms fold over his white kimono top as he continues to stare down at her. She notes the bandages covering his forehead, long bangs falling over them.

Undeterred by his cool demeanor (living with the Uchiha’s has really done wonders for her in regards to men who have intense gazes and aloof attitudes), she steps by him and tilts her head.

“Care to walk with me to the Uchiha manor? I could use the company.” She’s sure she knows who this is, from Hinata’s stories and she always described him as a gentleman above anything else (Ino will be happy to learn he is indeed handsome because Hinata was unable to confirm it). “I’m Sakura.”

He steps in line with her. “Neji.”

Her smile widens. “Hinata talks a lot about you Neji-san. I’ll have to write her and let her know I’ve met you.”

“You work at the shrine my cousin is at?” His face denotes a semblance of relief and a contained smile. “How is she?”

She tells him a few stories of her progress and her duties and how she’s the best cook out of all of them and Tsunade has essentially banned the rest of them from the kitchens. She mentions Naruto and watches his eye tick slightly as she describes their relationship, mostly informing him of Hinata's fainting spells.

“Don’t worry, Neji-san, he treats her with the utmost respect,” she laughs as he seems to disagree so she moves on. “How is Hanabi? I’m sure she would like an update if I can provide one for her."

“She misses her sister but is doing well with the responsibilities laid out for her.” He explains a few of the roles the young heiress has taken on and how the Hyuuga household is doing without the older sister (she doesn’t miss the snide comments he makes to the main branch).

“And you?”

She sees hints of lavender in his eyes as they gaze at her and a small smile dawns his features. 

“Well enough,” he considers her for a moment. “When you send her a letter, will you let her know I’m happy she's taking charge of her destiny?”

“I’m sure she’d love a letter directly from you, Neji-san. She misses you and Hanabi very much.”

They stop at the Uchiha gates and he looks up into the bright sky. In a quiet tone, he tells her Hiashi has forbidden them to contact her and she follows his eyes, staring at the clouds passing by before settling her gaze on him once more. Resting a hand on his forearm, she gives him a smile.

“Well, if you are ever inclined to, I have plenty of paper here for a small letter and would be happy to send it off for you. But I will pass your message along.”

His eyes drift behind her for a moment before he bows and takes her hand, brushing a kiss along her knuckles. Her face heats and _what is it with men kissing her hands_ and she shuffles on her feet, clearing her throat.

“Thank you for accompanying me, Neji-san. It was very lovely to meet you.”

“The pleasure was all mine, priestess.” He drops her hand delicately and stares behind her again, his eyes and features hardening. “Uchiha.”

“Hyuuga.” A shiver rolls up her spine.

She turns to see Sasuke leaning against the gate, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched and very much looking the same way he did when Shisui kissed her hand and she flusters more. The two men regard each other coolly, before Neji bows and takes his leave. Coal eyes don’t stray from the Hyuuga until his figure disappears from sight and then his attention turns to her. 

Trying to calm her frazzling nerves because he paints quite the picture of perfection leaning against the gate, black hair dripping (did he just shower?), skin gloriously pale in the sunlit atmosphere, onyx eyes burning- she forces a smile. 

“When did you get back?” She tries not to wince at the high pitch her voice emits.

His eyes follow her hand as she absently grazes the spot Neji’s lips brushed against and they narrow more, causing her to drop her hands.

“About an hour ago.”

“Oh! Uh," what does she say? "W-welcome home, Sasuke.”

She hears his inhalation of breath and he pushes off the gate and she wonders how much more her heart can beat until it bursts from her chest. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she steels herself, unsure of her next move.

“Would you- I mean, I have another cleansing to go to but I need some more ofuda. Would you… like to accompany me?” Her hand is fisted at her side, taking in the fabric of her hakama.

It feels like an eternity as they stand outside of the compound, staring at each other before he nods and the tension releases from her shoulders as they walk side-by-side towards her room. 

“So… acquaintances, huh?” She bites back her laughter as his eyebrow ticks.

“Hyuuga and I have... worked together a few times, despite our preferences.” 

“Oh? Is Neji-san a soldier as well?” Perhaps it’s too much of her to ask, she imagines the reason they wear those masks is to remain anonymous. He hums, neither a confirmation or denial, and she muses she’s correct. 

It doesn’t take her long to gather her things and they begin their journey down the streets of the village in silence. She’s very aware of how close he is beside her and more often than not, their knuckles will brush and she feels sparks bursting in her veins. She’s also acutely aware of the stares they’re receiving as they walk through the streets, many whispers following behind them. Sneaking a glance up at him didn’t relay any information to her, his face remains impassive, eyes set forward.

When he breaks the silence, she nearly jumps out of her skin.

“You asked me when we met if I’m a demon… do you truly believe in evil spirits?” 

She’s silent for a moment, contemplating. “I… I didn’t used to... but when I was younger, there was a… dark presence that filled my room late into the night and it came to my dreams in the form of a snake. It was… it was like fear come to life, suffocating, overwhelming.” She wraps her arms around her body, shivering at the memory of yellow eyes glowing through the cold dark. "Thankfully, Tsunade-sama was quick to repel it... I haven’t come across an evil spirit since then, though.” His red eyes flash across her mind but she dispels the thought, there is nothing purely _evil_ about him, she's sure.

He hums. “But you let these people believe their houses are… infested with spirits?” His tone isn’t accusing, merely curious.

“No, I let them know if I sense something malicious and of course, most often there’s none. But people like to have… a certain sense of showmanship, I suppose. However, not all house calls are to ward off evil spirits.” She rummages through her small pack and pulls out several ofuda, all displaying different meanings. He takes them from her, fingers brushing against hers. “Some people seek out good fortune, safety, many different forms of blessings and…” She swallows and spares a glance at him, “love.”

Before his eyes can meet hers, hers dart back down and she continues rather skittishly, rambling, “For example, I put up some charms for fertility, health and protection around Itachi and Izumi’s home, praying the gods bless them as they go through this pregnancy.” He hands her the ofuda and she avoids his touch, not wanting her heart to palpitate any more than it already is.

His stare drills into her head. “You stated you didn’t have any spiritual powers.”

“I don’t. I am merely a vessel to the gods. The spirits do the work as I pray and request their blessings for the family.” She dares to look up at him with a small smile and he peers down at her, head titled, observing with his hawk-like gaze.

“Hn.”

She seems to have satisfied his inquiry and they continue on in silence. When they arrive at the home, the family is immediately flustered and unsure of how to react to Sasuke being with her. She tries to calm them down by stating he’s being her helper today and enjoys the slight look of irritation passing over him and they walk through the house together as she prays and instructs him on where to place the ofuda.

Their journey back is quiet, content and filled with stolen glances. The sun begins to set, casting an array of shades _orange, purple, red, pink_ across the village and the breeze picks up slightly. The smell of food hits her senses as they walk through the gates and she resolves to clean up a bit before she helps Mikoto with dinner. She turns to thank Sasuke for accompanying her but her voice is frozen in her throat, breath caught.

He’s a painting. A masterpiece. The sunset glow illuminates his skin, creating wonderful shadows along his chiseled jaw and nose, his lips carrying just a hint of rose, and his eyes- his eyes are looking around as if he’s searching for something or someone ( ~~Shisui~~ ) before they land on her and she’s consumed in an infinite starless night.

He steps closer and she inhales warm smoke as if a crackling fire was burning before her and she wonders if it’s from her body because she feels like it’s igniting in flames. Long fingers grasp around her hand, slowly lifting it up and she can’t _breathe_ as she watches him guide her hand up to his mouth and then his lips press to her wrist, directly on her pulse and it’s almost as if time slows down, stretching out the moment painstaking, wonderful, _frightening_. 

Every inch of her, every nerve, every part of her senses, _everything_ is aflame but nothing burns more than the feeling of his lips on her skin. She feels light, dizzy, and aches all over and it only intensifies when his eyes darken more and cloud over with an emotion that makes her knees buckle.

Time resumes its natural pace when he straightens up, lips pulling away from her hammering pulse but the burn continues to remain. Her hand falls limply to her side and she can do nothing but watch as he exhales and turns away, heading in the opposite direction of the main house they were just about to enter into.

It takes many many moments for her to regain her sensibility and she walks, trembling, to her room and the feel of his lips lingers, as if seared onto her skin, throughout the remainder of the evening and well into her sleepless night. As she stares out into the dark sky twinkling with stars and moonlight, a tear slides across her cheek as she battles between two forces in her mind.

Duty versus desires.

Virtue versus damnation.

As one hand cradles the necklace she has yet to take off, she presses her lips against her pulse of the one he kissed, desperately wishing she could feel his lips against hers but despairing that it can _not_ happen again, and tears fall in streams.

When did a life living for her obligations, promises, commitments drift so far away from a life living for herself, her wants, her needs? Did they not use to be one and the same? 

* * *

He remembers overhearing Shisui and Itachi discuss kissing once. Remembers their descriptions of fun, romance, excitement and he thinks neither of them know what they’re talking about because he thinks it’s _terrifying_ and-

The feel of her skin, of her pulse quickening and thrumming against his lips, the softness of her seeped all the way through him, settling in his bones. It took all he had not to slide his tongue along her pulse and get a better taste. Seconds turned into minutes into hours as he continued to kiss her wrist, watching her pupils blow, green eyes darkening, rosy red lips parting, and he felt it coil in his stomach, this hunger. It’s like he’s starving and she’s the only person who can quell it, feed and satiate him. 

-it was a _mistake_ because now all he wants to do is test the waters once again and see _feel_ _taste_ her lips, her neck, her shoulders and-

The kunai embeds itself deep into the target.

-if he could feel this way from simply kissing her _wrist_ , what the fuck would happen if he kissed anything else? 

He _can’t_.

(damn his stupid jealousy for causing him to react without thinking _impulsive_ but the image of Shisui _annoyingly_ kissing her palm, the image of _Hyuuga_ pressing his useless mouth to her knuckles and how she _blushed_ with both just wouldn’t leave his mind and he wanted to see her reaction to _him_ and he shouldn’t have done it because it was _too_ _much, he feels too much_ )

“Shisui’s going to be upset if you split the target. He just put that up.”

He snorts. “Like I care. Shisui’s nothing but a pain in my ass, anyway.”

“Aa. But he’ll be an even bigger pain in the ass if you destroy it.” Irked, he turns around to see his brother, arms folded in his yukata and looking exhausted, weary, but still offers a smile to him. “You should be asleep.”

“So should you, you look like shit…” he grumbles and yanks out the kunai.

A small chuckle emits from Itachi.

“What?” 

“Our dear cousin says you don’t take after him at all, but I beg to differ.” He leans against one of the trees, eyes scrutinizing his younger brother.

“Tch. I’m nothing like that idiot.” He tosses the kunai.

“You both said that exact same thing to me- it's a shared brutal honesty." Coal eyes, worn, full of wisdom, turn to the starlit sky. "At least my wife has the decency to sugarcoat it.”

Sasuke sighs and they stay coated in silence until Itachi breaks it,

“Something troubles you,” a fact. 

He sends a look to his brother. There are so few moments that they get to spend together anymore and there’s a part of him desperately wants to seek him out like he used to do when he was younger but years of _next time Sasuke_ or _Itachi has duties to complete, Sasuke, don't bother him_ are as embedded into his mind like this damn kunai in the target.

“Nothing that you need to concern yourself with,” he manages to mutter out, still unable to remove the weapon from the wood and picks up another to try and crack the target more.

After a while, “Sakura fits well here, does she not? Mother and Izumi have taken quite a liking to her, as has Shisui.”

The kunai hits just a little higher than the target.

“Shisui says you have as well.”

Fucking Shisui. He huffs and aims.

“Quite intimate it is... a kiss on the wrist.”

He misses the target completely. _Shit_. He was too busy looking for his overbearing, loud-mouthed cousin-

“That was… It’s nothing." He deflects. "You need to go to sleep, Itachi. Don’t you have a meeting with the council in a couple of hours?”

“Aa. As is the reason I am unable to sleep properly,” he takes a step forward and easily dislodges the kunai from the target much to Sasuke’s chagrin. “That and Izumi has become more animated in her slumber. I think I’ll suggest a little more peppermint in her tea when I see Sakura next.”

Itachi hands the weapons to him, eyes observant and calm. Always, _always_ calm. 

“You remember what I told you about duty, little brother?”

Every damn day since he’s met Sakura. He remains silent and Itachi continues,

“There are things that I’m unable to escape from, but you can. You can have more.”

Can he? (He sees the image of his father, stern, but nodding in approval after his missions. The image of his mother and her words about his father _he just doesn’t know how to express himself properly but he talks about you to me all the time, Sasuke_. The image of Itachi and all the things he strives to be, to catch up with. The image of Sakura shining brighter than the sun and so so _so_ far out of his reach) No. 

“I'm not sure that's possible,” he whispers, strained, broken.

Itachi sighs and searches him for a long moment, quietly stating, “Get some sleep, we’ll continue this conversation another time,” before he taps two fingers in the middle of his forehead. Eye twitching, Sasuke rubs the spot and glares at Itachi’s retreating back.

He continues tossing kunai until the sun rises, focusing on his darkness, his duty, trying to ignore the desire, hunger, longing running through his blood and grinding against his bones, his delving deep into his marrow, resolving to stay _away_. 

(even knowing deep deep _deep_ down that he

just

 _can’t_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you squint really really hard you might be able to see the plot outside of ss romance that i have no idea about lolol. seriously, no idea where this is heading but i do know we're in a for a long, mutual pining, sexual tension kinda ride. :D
> 
> honestly so happy and excited that so many of ya'll are enjoying this 🥺 ya'll are so kind and i hope i don't disappoint! *pressure by paramore plays in the background* lol but no. we're all in this together. thank ya'll so much!! your comments are always appreciated!
> 
> ❤️️ = I love this story!  
> 😳 = this was hot!  
> 💐 = thank you for sharing this  
> 🍵 = tea spilled  
> 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!  
> 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!  
> 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER  
> 😢 = you got me right in the feels  
> 🤯 = mind blown  
> 🤬 = mfing cliffhanger  
> 😫 = whyyyyyyy?!?!?
> 
> thank you for reading! (uhm also i have a tweeters now? @onemorpineapple missing an e cause tweeter jokes, but yeah if you like kittens and me i guess? lol i'm there)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lyrics are clarity by zedd and will be used for the next couple of chapters. cover art is commissioned by sorceressmyr over at the tweeters and i'm so so so thrilled about it.  
> enjoy!

cover by: [@sorceressmyr](https://twitter.com/sorceressmyr/)

DO NOT REPOST! 

* * *

_it cuts deep through our ground_

_and makes us forget all common sense_

Life with the Uchiha’s has been pleasant, interesting, and sometimes reminiscent of life at the shrine and she’s now fallen into a comfortable routine of waking up, checking up on and visiting with Izumi (occasionally she’ll catch Itachi on his way out), helping Mikoto and Izumi with anything and everything, cooking (she’s getting better at it, Hinata would be proud), visiting families around the village to offer blessings and wardings, avoiding interaction with Fugaku because she’s still unsure how to communicate with him, and laughing at Shisui’s antics when he joins her and the Uchiha women for cooking or laundry or visits to the market. 

She grips the basket and looks out her balcony doors at the colors of the budding spring.

It’s been two weeks, almost three, since she’s interacted, _seen, been near_ Sasuke and she knows it’s for the best because- _because it just is_ and she tells herself this every day even as the necklace she wears brands her skin, even as she remembers the feel of his lips on her pulse and the war in her mind continuously _rages-_

Sighing, she closes her bedroom door and moves towards the front gates to join Izumi and Mikoto.

(she keeps hidden in the deepest crevice of her mind the late nights when the moon and stars glimmer through the vast darkness or in the early morning when the sun paints hues of color on the horizon as he stands outside her door on the balcony ready to leave on a mission because there’s a piece of them that _aches_ and is unable to stay away _completely_ )

She walks between the two Uchiha women in silence, listening as they chitchat, taking in the warmth trickling over her skin and rustling her hair as the sun gleams brightly in the clear sky. The snow is all but melted now and the trees are blooming, the grass is sprouting, and birds sing cadences in the distance. Perhaps her namesake has a lot to do with it, but she always looks forward to the season. Spring brings life and renewal and while she loves the smooth, powdery snow and warm, crackling fires associated with winter, she’s always happier to see the earth flourish.

Although now… she has a newfound respect for winter because without the bitter cold and frozen snow a soldier would have never sought refuge at her shrine (she wonders in the later parts of the night if anything would have changed between them if they hadn’t met then)- 

“...does that sound, Sakura?”

Oh.

Uhh. Sheepish, she rubs the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, I was a little lost in my thoughts. What was that?”

Laughing softly, Mikoto responds, “We want to get your measurements while we’re out.”

Sakura looks down at the tattered ends of her red hakama. She only brought a handful of clothing (she packed light mostly for travel purposes and wondered at some moments if she should have brought at least _one_ kimono) and between the already noticeable wear and tear and having to wash them so regularly, her clothing is, well- New clothes would be _nice_.

“That sounds great,” she adjusts her hakama nervously, “I know my clothing is looking rather tattered...” She’s done her best to stitch up the small tears and holes but, “Maybe they can do a better job of mending them and I have some money saved up...” She can afford a kimono or two.

“She’s so cute,” Izumi says teasingly and tosses a wink at the Uchiha matriarch who smiles brightly, playfully. “We were discussing your birthday coming up, Sakura, and we’d like to _gift_ you some kimonos.”

Oh. Her face heats. When she first arrived she hadn’t expected them to care about her upcoming birthday but when she mentioned the date, Mikoto, Izumi, _and_ Shisui immediately started planning and asked her for her favorite foods, colors, and anything else that might be appreciated as a gift to her. 

“That- That’s not- I mean I-”

Mikoto waves a hand, silencing her stuttering, and pauses at one of the fruit stands. “Protesting will not change our minds, it’s the least we can do for all your help.”

Her mouth clamps shut (another thing she’s learned is that arguing or going against the matriarch usually ends in failure) and her blush deepens as she nods. They agree to meet at the tailors in an hour once they finish shopping and she departs from the two women, making her way towards the herb vendor, greeting him with a smile. 

“Good afternoon, Higurashi-san!”

“Sakura-san, so lovely to see you again!” The older man beams at her and pulls out several bags. “I have your herbs all ready for you, will this be all today?”

“You’re so sweet for that, thank you! And actually, I was wanting to add a few more additions to my usual order...” She begins to list off a few more herbs _echinacea, feverfew, ginseng, lavender, lots more chamomile_ when her eyes fall on a small basket containing a bushel of flowers she’s never seen. “What’s this?”

“That is a new product that we just received from a gentleman- oh, he’s actually walking back over.”

She turns to the side, watching as a man walks over to her. His glasses glint in the sunlight as he pushes them to the bridge of his nose and he steps beside her, brushing back grey hair fallen from his ponytail. 

“Hello again, Higurashi-san, I thought I’d stop by once more before I take my leave to see how sales were doing.” Charcoal eyes overlook her and she thinks he _looks_ kind and he _sounds_ kind but- “Priestess,” he bows and he _seems_ polite…

“Are you interested in purchasing a few?” He gestures to the basket she’s standing in front of.

A nervous smile forms and she takes a deep breath, shrugging off the feeling. “Sakura, please, and I was actually just wondering what this flower is, I’ve never seen it before and I’d like to think I know all my flowers and herbs...” She trails off and chuckles softly.

His smile is frozen on his face. “With a name such as that, I can only imagine, and such knowledge is important for your line of work. I’m Kabuto, by the way. Very lovely to meet you, Sakura-chan.”

She doesn’t appreciate his informality and studies him as he picks up a small bundle of the odd yellow blooms, painted with purple edges. He by all means appears normal and friendly but there’s _something_ that she can’t quite place her finger on. After a moment's pause he continues,

“I actually bred these myself,” he returns the bundle in the basket.

“Oh!” Not exactly unheard of... “Uhm may I inquire what the purpose is for? It’s such odd colors… but its features are similar to kerria…” Minus the deep purple along the edges.

“Kerria is one of the flowers I used to breed it, very keen eye, Sakura-chan. Care to venture what the other might be? I made this with the intention of being used to treat wounds and small ailments such as headaches and fevers. The other flower it's spliced with is very poisonous on its own and it took a while to perfect so it wouldn’t be as… deadly.” The way he said it- she squares her shoulders.

Brow creasing, she delicately picks up a bloom and inspects it, trying to ignore the feel of Kabuto’s gaze burrowing into her skin. She smells it- it smells… she takes another deep inhale. It doesn’t smell like anything. What flower doesn’t smell and is poisonous-

“Wolfsbane.” The word comes out muted and a little chilled. _That_ is unheard of.

His lips pull into a wider smile. “Well done,” he motions to the flowers in her hand. “Allow me to offer you that as a sample.”

“Oh no! I couldn’t possibly-”

“Nonsense, Sakura-chan, seeing as how you’re almost robbing our poor vendor of his stock, it would be a pleasure to gift this for you to use.” 

She glances over at Higurashi who is looking none the offended that she’s being offered something for free after he spent money to purchase the flowers from this (strange) man. Before she can protest any more, Kabuto takes the bundle from her and places it in her basket and ice pours over her from the slight graze of his hand against hers. 

“And perhaps it will tempt you to purchase more at a later date,” his smile is too polite and she feels nauseated. Then he casts his gaze to the sky. “I apologize but I need to head out. It was lovely to meet you, Sakura-chan, I hope to see you around again. Higurashi-san,” he bows and disappears into the crowd.

She gathers her purchases from the vendor (offering payment for the extra to which he declines) and treks to the tailors feeling on edge, tense, and cold. The polite side of her knows she should keep it and perhaps one day it might come in handy but this feeling she can’t escape-

“Sakura! Come, come!” She looks up to see Izumi waving excitedly at her from the entrance of the tailor shop. 

The warmth of the breeze does nothing to ease the chill she finds herself in.

* * *

She tried, she really did.

But damn Mikoto is an immovable force (especially with Izumi on her side) and she now finds herself looking forward to a few new sets of priestess attire and even more kimonos and yukata. 

_“You’ll be here for a few more months and we have a couple of festivals during your stay and of course you must have a kimono to wear on your birthday!”_

And she thought Tsunade was headstrong.

Sighing, she sets her basket on the dresser and rolls her neck before pulling out the necklace from her pocket. She _almost_ got caught with it and it was tricky taking it off before either women or the tailor noticed. A finger gently traces the uchiwa. What would they have said? Would Mikoto even have minded? They’ve already made her feel as if she’s a part of the family and-

Her fingers close around the jewelry.

It doesn’t do anything to dwell on what ifs and what could be. 

-it’s a battle-

So then… _why_ does she continue to wear it? It’s a question the duty-bound side asks, reasoning that her bearing the clan symbol is only making matters worse and she knows it would be prudent to stop wearing it or- or even… give it back. But… she bites at her thumbnail, watching her hand tremble ever so lightly, nails digging into her palm around the delicate piece.

In the end, she secures the clasp and tucks the necklace under her kosode and joins the family for dinner.

-a losing battle.

* * *

The whistle of the kunai flying past his ear interrupts the still forest and he jumps up to a branch, unsheathing kusanagi. He scans the trees, shadowed and colorless under the crescent moon, and moves rapidly to the source as another kunai soars towards him. Metal clashes, ringing through the night and he encounters a cloaked form, plain porcelain mask hiding its face. Tomoe spin against bright crimson ready to meet the enemy’s sight as he slices his sword forward, meeting with two tantō.

Teeth grind as the two blades block every slash and thrust and with his other hand, he reaches for a kunai, twirling the end on his fingers, tossing it to the stomach of his enemy. He hears a grunt and leaps into the air only to feel a sharp pain on his torso. When his feet land on the forest floor, he rips out the tantō and warmth seeps out, crimson staining his armor, trailing to the grass beneath his feet and he hurls the weapon at the incoming figure. 

The white mask cracks as the blade meets the porcelain, impaling the skull and blood splatters in the air as the body descends to the ground. Breathing heavily, Sasuke steps to the fallen form and kusanagi twists in his hand and the sword pierces the earth. He hears a hiss and a snake slithers out. His blade rips from the ground and the sharp edge severs the head. 

His cough shatters through the flat silence of the night like broken glass. Crimson speckles his hand and his stomach ripples from the wound on his side. Grimacing, he races through the blackened forest, eyes glowing rubies and on alert for any more _surprises_ he might face. 

Enemies should not be this close to home.

He makes sure to throw off his trail by taking the long (extremely long _fuck_ he’s starting to lose focus) way home and his mind begins to spin, vision dotting. Itachi’s home is all the way in the back, fuck Shisui, and he knows he can make it to his mother’s room on the opposite end of the main house but- 

Teeth gnashing together, he stumbles through the yard and in his haze he can only think of one thing, one _person_ and-

“Sasuke, what-” Sakura bolts up from her futon, frantically reaching for her yukata and covering herself with the blanket as she watches him slide the door closed and then gasps from seeing the blood he’s now pooling in her room. “Oh my gods- What happened!”

He grunts and flops down, leaning his back and head against the wall as she scrambles up and pulls open a drawer in her dresser, taking out several items (she hesitates on something before shaking her head). He lifts his mask, resting it against the top of his head so he can _breathe_ and his eyes follow her every move even as they blur and dot, blackening her appearance. And in the darkest depths of the night and against the inky specks, she’s so _vibrant_ and her bubblegum hair is all mussed, emerald eyes lined in purple and red, and her scarlet yukata is- is shorter than the last one he remembers seeing her in and it's closed tightly against her, outlining her cream-colored body.

He can only stare at her as she turns and kneels down before him, and her movements halt, eyes wide and mouth agape. He feels his head tilt, his vision with it, and in his daze all he can think about is how beautiful she looks and he just wants to _touch_ her. A bloodied hand reaches for her but she slaps it away, quickly averting her eyes.

“Stay still,” she utters, muted, as she begins to grind something in her mortar. A piece of hair falls from behind her ear, cascading around her cheek and jaw.

His hand extends out again and his fingers barely graze the soft soft strands before she sighs and taps his hand guard with her pestle. 

“Sasuke, stop. You need to stop moving and- _stop_.” The granite pings against the guard once more and she tosses him an exasperated look.

But he just wants to _touch_ her, _feel_ her.

There’s a short pause before the sound of the grinding pestle and whatever she has in the mortar resounds through her small, quiet room. He blinks languidly, eyes staying half-lidded. Maybe he said that out loud? He thought he heard his voice through the fog but all he can focus on is _her_ and all the colors she brings to his world and then his vision tilts more and-

“Sasuke!"

-black, black, black.

* * *

She carefully sets him down with a groan, having barely caught him before he crashed on the floor and his weight a little too much for her to bear so quickly. She grabs a pillow and raises his head, resting it on the soft cushion and continues to mash the herbs together posthaste. His breathing is starting to shallow and she ponders calling for help but doesn’t want to lose any time (and who would seek out?). 

“Dammit…” she sets the mortar on the floor and works to unclasp his vest, almost feeling a sense of deja vu from the first night they met. She sucks in air between her teeth and tries to peel back his undershirt that is sopping and clinging to his wound. 

The scissors she acquires cut through the material with ease and she flips open his shirt to reveal a gash on the left side of his torso. It’s not as long as the one she previously stitched up but it’s deep and there’s no snow around to help clot and stop the bleeding this time. 

She goes through the motions of getting water and using a damp towel to wash around the injury, focused solely on managing his wound, pinching the opening as tightly as she can, stitching it up. Using her forearm, she wipes at the bangs sticking to her forehead before she resumes pushing the needle through his skin. A snip echoes when she threads the last stitch and she mixes the crushed echinacea she purchased earlier with some fresh water until it forms a paste. 

(she didn’t _need_ to buy this herb but she did anyway _just in case_ and this is only deepening the hole she’s burying herself in) 

She smears the paste on his wound, watching his face twist in a grimace and once the salve is all gone and smoothed over the injury she takes a deep breath and slumps her shoulders.

Sleeping has become problematic and she’s only been able to catch handfuls of it before she lies awake in her bed, staring out into the yard. Her dreams are almost becoming too much and she recalls the way his breath and fingers felt searing trails of fire along her skin before she woke up to the sight of his shadow in the yard, his hawk mask barely illuminated by the low moonlight. She’s sure she almost had a heart attack when she watched him stumble to her room and then the smell of copper filled her senses and she could barely concentrate on anything but that.

Her hands dip into the small basin and she works to get the drying blood off, her mind wandering to when his attention was on her as he collapsed against the wall.

There’s no doubt now. His eyes were _red_ and _glowing_ and she’s positive she saw three black tomoe swirling around his pupil. There was no trick of the light, fire, or anything around for her to mistake the color. 

Wearily, she observes him and listens to his breathing deepen and slow. He's coated in blood and sweat and the coppery scent is heavy in her room. Sighing, she wipes his forehead, fingers grazing his coarse, thick bangs before tracing his cheek and jaw. It’s too late to think about the implications or meanings of his strange, unearthly eyes and bandaging his torso will be a task by herself… and then- he needs to be moved.

Damn.

After a moments thought, a warm breeze greets her and she carefully climbs over the railing, running to the small house just a few ways away from her room. She barely gets past one knock when the door slides open to reveal Shisui, whose sleepy look disappears in an instant as he takes in her appearance. 

His normal cheery voice is somber. “Sakura? What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“It’s Sasuke, he uh- He’s wounded and I need some... help.” She tugs at the hem of her yukata nervously, glancing back in the direction she came.

He nods, looking relieved, and follows her through the yard while she continues to stutter,

“I- he- he needs to be bandaged and uhm… laid in his bed…”

They step into her room and he takes in the scenery before him, kneeling before his younger cousin, inspecting him and carefully pulling him up. “Skillfully done, Sakura-chan.”

A weak smile forms on her lips and she starts to wrap his torso. 

“Tsunade-sama is very efficient in her training.” She swallows a lump and finishes tying the bandage. “Uhm… Shisui is- is he-” She motions to his mask and tries to form the worries she has that he might be in trouble for revealing himself to her like this (even though she already _knows_ but this is vastly different and more noticeable than his unmentionable visits).

He grins and winks at her. 

“Don’t worry! You were bound to find out some of our secrets. Why don’t you gather your items and sleep in the room across the hall? I’ll have your room cleaned up in the morning.”

She mutters out _okay_ , gathering up her clothes and soaps as he picks Sasuke up. They step out into the hall and he walks, four doors down to be exact, and her heart thumps. Is his room really so close to hers? 

No, it’s not the time to think about that.

Shisui emerges from the room and walks back over to her, placing his hand on top of her head.

“I can see the worry lines on your pretty face. It’ll be okay, I promise. Get some sleep.”

Comforted, a faint smile blooms. “Thank you, Shisui.”

With a wink, he disappears back into her room and out into the night and she makes it into the threshold of the guest room before halting, eyes cast down the hall and she could just make sure he’s- using her hand, she forces herself into the room and shuts the door.

* * *

Fuck.

He messed up.

Father is- Father-

Fuck fuck fuck.

He turns off the shower and steps out, wrapping the towel around his waist and examines his wound. It’s neatly stitched and whatever she put on it helped the swelling and there doesn’t seem to be any signs of infection. Much like the first time she tended to him. Of course, his mother would have done the same. Or he could have taken care of it himself just as easily. 

But no. In his delirium and state of blood loss he had to see her. Had to try and touch her and-

He runs a hand over his face.

“That’s the look of a man who knows he’s fucked up, baby cousin.” Shisui’s leaning against the bathroom door, his cheerful exterior replaced with a more serious affect. “Lucky for you, I can keep a secret.” 

Sasuke narrows his eyes. He wondered how he got into his room. Not that he can blame her for seeking help and honestly (he somewhat loathes to admit it) Shisui is the best person for this precarious situation (it’s not that he hates his cousin okay it’s just the man can be so _annoying_ sometimes damn). 

“How bad is it?” 

“It’s already taken care of. Not my first clean up job, you know. Uncle won’t hear a peep about it.” His eyes read sternly. “It can’t happen again, though, Sasuke.”

“I know…” he grinds his teeth and brushes past him, walking over to his closet. 

“It’s not just about our family. You put her in danger by-“

“Dammit I _know._ ” He runs his fingers through his wet hair, exasperated, frustrated.

The older Uchiha holds his hands up in defense, studying him and after a moment, states, “It’ll come out eventually, especially if you keep visiting her before you leave _and_ ,” he gives a pointed look when Sasuke scowls, “I don’t mean to say that to tease you, Sasuke. You’re lucky I’m always on shift when you leave and that the other guards don't care to know which is your actual room.” 

He’s silent and the weight of his actions, his carelessness, bears down on him.

Humming, Shisui steps towards him and places a hand on top of his head. “Damage control is done this time, so stop sulking. You’ll ruin your handsome little face with that scowl.” 

He shoves his hand away and mutters out a _thank you._

“You’re welcome,” the door opens and just as it’s about to close, “oh and Itachi says next time try not to bleed out so much,” and shuts the door with a grin.

His head _thunk thunk thunks_ against his closet door because _of course_ Itachi got involved and now this is going to be held over his head beyond his grave. Though they are the best people to know and be able to keep a tight lid on what happened and he’s grateful for their help. 

Huffing, he digs out his clothes, fresh bandages and gets ready. 

He’s losing it. His discretion, or apparent lack thereof, in seeing her before his missions… Has his sensibility vanished? Shisui’s right- he is extremely lucky none of the other guards have spotted him and he _knows_ he needs to _stay away_ and stop because her knowledge puts both of them at risk and the truth of how she knows is too fucking complicated for anyone to understand (he barely understands it and only _feels_ it and that _feeling_ makes it so hard to do what he _needs_ to do).

His father’s study looms before him and with a set jaw, he steps in.

“Father,” he bows and slides the door shut. 

“What do you have to report?” Fugaku peers up from a scroll, features stern.

“The reconnaissance was successful.”

“Hn.” Nodding, he looks back down at the scroll.

Fists clench and unclench. “There was an enemy outside the gates.” Fugaku’s attention returns to him and he continues, “It’s been taken care of but like last time, a snake was left in place of the body.”

“Have you traced the source?”

Sasuke nods, stepping forward. “They tried to throw me off when I went to Ame and Kiri, but Oto is the common factor in all the appearances.”

A moment's pause then he nods. “Write your report and submit it by no later than the end of the day. You’re dismissed.”

He withholds the heavy sigh that threatens to escape and when he’s just about to cross the doorframe-

“You’re improving, Sasuke.”

-he doesn’t look, knowing his father’s attention will be on the scroll, but as the door clicks shut, he feels a wash of reassurance? acknowledgement? And all he can think is _i’m finally catching up to itachi, father’s finally recognizing me finally finally finally._

He makes his way to the kitchen, shoulders less taut and his breath stills at the sight greeting him. 

Sakura is standing at the counter, an apron tied around her, looking like she _belongs_. 

His heart squeezes and air finally finds its way back to his lungs and he steps forward to fill the kettle with water.

“Hi,” soft, unsure. 

“Hey,” awkward, tense.

The air around them thickens uncomfortably and he opens his mouth, then closes it, glancing at her only to immediately avert his gaze when he meets hers. 

He waits for the kettle to whistle, staring, probably too hyper focused on the metal object. Two weeks and a handful of days since they’ve last spoken. Two weeks since he last interacted with her (not including last night of course and he’d hardly count the times before his missions as interactions).

“How uhm how... are you feeling?”

His eyes slowly find her form and he watches as she tries to form a rice ball. 

“Better…” he takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Sakura.” 

It’s difficult to tell from the angle of her face and hair falling around her but he’s pretty sure her cheeks are flushed and it eases his tension a little even as more silence passes over them. The kettle whistles and he removes it from the stove. 

“I have some more salve for you and- and there’s some tea I made that you need to drink the next couple of days to help avoid fever.” 

She looks up, emerald orbs glistening brightly and in a whisper so hushed, so full of worry,

“And try to avoid getting injured next time, okay?”

He can only nod as her concern sinks deep into his core.

Her eyes flutter rapidly and she looks back down at the onigiri she is so painfully failing at. Snorting, he takes the barely formed rice out of her hands and inspects them. He resists the urge to trace her callouses.

“You need to water and salt your hands,” he murmurs and goes to wet his and rubs on salt.

He hears her mutter out _i knew i was forgetting something_ before she follows his example and they each grab a handful of rice. He goes through forming the shape of the onigiri and holds it out for her to inspect and damn if his stomach doesn’t erupt in chaos and his heart doesn’t pound as she holds up an onigiri, still deformed but better than the last, and the shy grin on her face makes his itch to touch her increase tenfold and he distracts his hands by grabbing more rice.

As they form the rice balls (he instructs her on proper formation and she grumbles when a ball crumbles in her hands or doesn’t come out as perfectly shaped as his and he fails to hold back the smirk growing on his face at her impatience and she wrinkles her nose at him) the air between them grows, thickening with unsaid words, hidden feelings, and stolen glances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaaaaat :o she found some plot liiikkeeeee??! ...maybe. lol. hope it's intriguing 👀 👀 i think i have a pretty good idea of what i want to do with this now. ish. fkeajgivg. 
> 
> hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter and i'm still beyond blown away by myr's artwork! if you aren't familiar with her, check out her work (link at the bottom of the cover art) and enjoy! 
> 
> your comments/thoughts/kudos and everything are always so appreciated! drop an emoji if you like or leave me a paragraph, i'm happy with either lol. thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> ❤️️ = I love this story!  
> 😳 = this was hot!  
> 💐 = thank you for sharing this  
> 🍵 = tea spilled  
> 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!  
> 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!  
> 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER  
> 😢 = you got me right in the feels  
> 🤯 = mind blown  
> 🤬 = mfing cliffhanger  
> 😫 = whyyyyyyy?!?!?


	7. Chapter 7

__

cover by: [@sorceressmyr](https://twitter.com/sorceressmyr/)

DO NOT REPOST!!

* * *

_don't speak as i try to leave_

_cause we both know what we'll choose_

Calloused fingers circle her bow and she steps out into the yard, face cast to the sky. The sun warms over her, sending a tingle from her closed eyes all the way down to her toes and her hair rises, goosebumps prickling along her arms. Birds are singing in the distance and the lightest of breezes rustles the budding leaves of the trees, sweeping gently at her hair. She studies the targets before her, counting the trees and spaces between each one, and then nocks an arrow and sets it loose.

It hits the bullseye.

She looses a couple of more arrows, feeling the pressure of the bow and string pulling, feeling the arrow releasing, feeling the fletching brush against her cheeks. She closes her eyes, taking deep deep breaths until all she can hear is her breathing and the sound of the string being pulled back and releasing, the sound of the arrow flying to its target, the sound of the arrow meeting its mark. 

It’s only been a little over a month, but it’s still too long. She needs to incorporate training in her routine not only for her continued improvement but– _another arrow hits a target_ – to help wind her down from the emotions bubbling within her. It’s becoming too much. Especially since Sasuke showed up in her room bleeding out and _i just want to touch you, feel you_ – 

A crack resounds and she slowly removes another arrow from her quiver. She inhales and lets it fly, exhaling when the crack sounds again and repeats this until she feels the slightest change in the breeze and an arrow expertly nocks as she steps a foot forward and turns on her heel, body posed, fletching just a breadth away from her cheek and she opens her eyes, only to have her breath stolen.

The arrowhead is pointed directly at Sasuke, who stands centimeters away from the sharp point. 

They're both quiet, studying one another and when she blinks, he’s gone. Biting back a grin, she closes her eyes once more, listening to her breaths, feeling the sun and wind and– 

There.

Her body turns to the left and as the arrow travels, she nocks another one, sending it soaring immediately after, repeating several more times. There’s a clang of metal against the shaft with each loose of an arrow (she’s going to have to purchase supplies to make some more after this) and the last clang is followed by a light whistle. She drops to one knee and opens her eyes, watching as the kunai flies over her head. 

It’s quiet and she inhales to calm her heavy pants and slowly reaches into her quiver. One last arrow.

She stands and studies the trees around her and then there’s just enough of a change in the breeze behind her. Pivoting, she aims at him once more, caught in the same position as before, his chest a breadth away from the arrowhead. His eyes obsidian, piercing, _smoldering_ are trained on her and there’s a tiny slant of his lips that runs her throat dry. She keeps her body posed, bow and arrow at the ready and they stare at each other as the sun continues to pour warmth down upon them. The breeze flutters past them, brushing his hair along his sharp features and she can smell the salve.

“How is your injury?”

“Healing nicely.”

Nodding, she lowers her weapon and takes a step back, placing her arrow in the quiver and walks to retrieve the others, most intact surprisingly. He joins her, removing the ones embedded in the targets and when they’re all gathered– 

“Thank you…” 

“Aa…”

Sakura fixates her gaze on the house and with every stride she takes, his eyes burn into her, warming her faster than the sun. 

* * *

Apparently he wasn’t the only one that needed to train to find a clear head.

( _he thinks maybe he needs to come to terms with the fact that staying away from her is nearly impossible because the more he tries, the more he’s pulled to her and it’s such a cruel, cruel trick of the gods_ )

He _could_ have turned around. He _could_ have waited for her to be done. He _could_ have gone to the other training site on the grounds. He could have done a lot of things. But he didn’t.

Instead, he watched her unleash arrow after arrow, eye closed, in full concentration and she looked magnificent, breathtaking, _strong_. He twirls the arrow in his hand (the last one she loosed), studying it. For the briefest of moments he thought he sensed it and despite every damn rational thought of _turn away don’t do this it’ll make it worse_ he moved. 

And then he _felt_ it (like a waterfall, powerful, rippling, cascading over him). Could practically _taste_ it as he stood in front of her (like the purest spring water, clean, refreshing, natural). Her power. And with each nock, a little more seeped into the way she pulled the bow tight and let loose the arrows. It’s almost undetectable, probably from being dormant, untrained for so long, but it’s there. More prominent when she’s fighting against someone, manifesting itself to further protect her and make a bigger impact on her targets. He thinks back to the second time they met and determines it was her he felt. It was faint, barely there, but it pulsed enough to catch his attention.

The arrow thrums in his hand, the faintest hint of green pulsing around it, before fading away. 

He blinks, his eyes swirling into black and he makes his way into the house. 

She has chakra. A lot of it. 

“Sasuke, dear!” His mother looks at the arrow in his hand and smiles in a way that makes him a little nervous, but she doesn’t press. “We’re just about to go to the market and then the tailors to make sure Sakura’s kimonos fit. Would you like to go with us? It’ll be a family affair– well, almost, your father is staying in that stuffy office of his.”

His body moves once more and he nods before his rational brain can connect and determine if this is a good idea or not. 

“Fantastic! Sakura’s cleaning up from training, so that’ll give you some time as well. You’re a little sweaty.” She swipes at his bangs, onyx eyes soft, loving, motherly. “Meet us at the gates when you’re done and we’ll head out.”

Sighing, he goes into his room, placing the arrow on his dresser, observing the chipped edges of the arrowhead, fingers grazing the frayed ends of the fletching. His other hand goes to the wound at his side and his mind whirls with the new information, the possibilities, the curiosity. 

He _could_ leave it alone. He _could_ let it rest and ignore it. He could do a lot of things that involve staying away from her, from the temptation of _more_.

He could. 

* * *

The market is bustling today. Sakura maneuvers her way through the crowded street, towards Higurashi’s stand, only to pause when she spots a flash of grey. She steps on her tiptoes and when she determines he’s not at the stand (maybe it was just a trick of light or someone else with gray hair) she smiles at the older man and gives him her list.

Bidding him farewell, she makes her way to the meeting point when Kabuto steps in front of her. He wipes his glasses clean with his haori, grey eyes focused on her. A chill breaks out over her arms as he steps forward, attention moving from her to the basket full of herbs and flowers.

“Sakura-chan, so lovely to run into you.”

Swallowing, she offers a tight smile. “Kabuto-san.”

“I see you’re taking more chamomile and peppermint.” His fingers trail over the herbs. “Perhaps you’re assisting with a pregnancy?”

Before she can answer, Mikoto and Izumi appear from behind him and flank her. She clutches the wicker basket closer to her and observes the two women. Their eyes are hard, cold, not at all what she’s used to seeing in either woman. 

“Ah, Uchiha-san.” He bows slightly, taking a step back. “I see. Sakura-chan is aiding Izumi-san in her pregnancy. I do hope all goes well with this one.”

When no one says anything, he bows again, a smile forming on his face. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. It was nice to run into you again, Sakura-chan.”

When Kabuto disappears in the crowd, Mikoto turns to her and Sakura sucks in a breath when red flashes through the matriarch's normally kind eyes.

“Sakura, stay away from him.” Her tone is serious, concerned. 

She nods. “Yes, of course.” Not like she wants to interact with the strange, unnerving man anyway. 

Izumi places a hand on her shoulder and smiles softly. “Come now, let’s go try on some kimonos.”

* * *

Sasuke steps inside the tailors with Itachi and Shisui, sighing, eyes looking around— 

He emits a shaky breath, his pulse slows and the sounds around him become background noise as he stares at Sakura. Her arms are up as the tailor measures and adjusts the sleeves, her hair is pinned up, and she’s laughing at something his mother is saying. The tailor motions her to move and she turns, eyes lifting. 

Jade eyes meet him and he unconsciously takes a step forward as she brings color to his world once again. The kimono is made of the finest material, nothing less than what his mother would have made, and the color is a brilliant red with light pink edges. He’s never cared for details of clothing, least of all a woman’s kimono but he finds himself admiring the way the delicate flowers etched into the cloth bring out her emerald eyes, the way her pink hair becomes brighter, the way—

“—think, Sasuke?” 

His shoulders tense and he turns to his mother who has that same smile from earlier and he finds himself once more nervous. The looks Izumi, Itachi, and Shisui are giving him don’t help. Clearing his throat, he shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. He’s pretty sure she asked him what he thought. And thinking is something he’s having a difficult time with right now. 

Her knowing smile grows. “I think this one will be perfect for her to wear for her birthday.” 

He blinks. Birthday?

“Well if Sasu-chan won’t say it, I will. Sakura you look lovely.” Shisui walks towards her. “This will be perfect for our little soiree.” 

_Shisui_ knows? His jaw clenches, eyes roaming back to Sakura as Shisui kisses her hand _again_. Damn idiot.

“Er– thank you, Shisui. Um it’s not too much? I don’t—“

“Nonsense dear.” Mikoto waves a hand and nods when the tailor adjusts the bottom hem. 

Sakura’s face is flushed, a shy smile on her rosy lips and he averts his eyes once more, fists tightening in his pockets. 

“Oh!” Izumi hunches over, hand holding her stomach and groans softly.

Itachi is by her side at once and Sakura steps down from the small podium, muttering an apology to the tailor as she moves over to her. Not wanting to crowd, he peers over at Shisui who nods and they move away a little bit to offer enough room as Itachi helps his wife sit down on one of the chairs. Sakura kneels before her, hands going to her face before pressing on her stomach. Mikoto asks the tailor for some water as Izumi takes several deep breaths.

“I think— oh. I think I’m alright. Just- just got a little... too excited.” Her chest starts to heave, breath coming out in pants.

When the tailor returns, Izumi sips on the water for a bit as his mother and Itachi converse softly. Sakura is ushered to the back and he stands next to Shisui, eyeing his sister-in-law in concern. From what he can tell, her symptoms are fewer and far between this time around and she seems to be doing better than her last couple of pregnancies. He observes Itachi kneel in front of her, speaking in hushed tones.

Through his brother’s calm mask, Sasuke sees the exhaustion in his eyes and the worry, the distress that this pregnancy could end just as painfully as the last. Izumi’s expression is a reflection, though she’s trying her best to put on a brave face. His stomach clenches, hating that they have to go through this. Their family has been supportive, understanding for the most part, but he hates to think what might happen if– if this–

He takes a deep breath as Itachi stands up, hands wrapping around his wife, helping her up. 

“Mother and I are going to take Izumi home so she can rest.”

“Shisui dear, there are still some items that we need from the market.”

His cousin grins. “Of course!” He takes the list from her, plants a kiss on Izumi and Itachi’s foreheads and winks before heading out of the shop.

His brother and sister-in-law slowly make their way outside and he turns to see his mother, that same smile on her face. His stomach breaks into flutters.

“Sasuke, would you walk Sakura home once she’s done changing,” she says it in a way that really leaves no room for him to say no. “I can take a handful of these bags, but I’ll need you to carry the rest.”

Sighing, he takes some of the bags from her. “Aa.”

“Make sure to take caution, these are fine silk.”

“Aa.”

Rolling her eyes, she kisses his cheek. “I was hoping one of you boys wouldn’t pick up that habit from your father. Alas, it appears Shisui is my only saving grace.”

“Tch. I’d hardly call Shisui an Uchiha, let alone a saving grace…” he grumbles and winces when she pinches the cheek she just kissed.

“Oh, stop that. If Shisui weren’t around– well. I highly doubt Itachi or you would be the same. As much as you are like your father, Shisui has his influences as well.”

He grunts. Fucking Shisui (but he knows deep _deepdeepdeep_ down she’s right, especially when it comes to his brother and he can’t imagine a life without his dolt of a cousin). 

Chuckling, she stops at the shop door. “Be safe walking home, dear.”

“Aa.”

Her laughter rings through his ears like soft bells and he can’t help the small smile pulling on his lips. He blows out a sigh and waits, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. Not like they haven’t walked home together. Not like they haven’t spent alone time together and he thinks of how natural it felt making onigiri with her in the kitchen. How she naturally fits in with his family, how things could– 

He grinds his teeth.

“Um… did they take Izumi home to rest?” 

Her cheeks are flushed, mouth slightly parted and her hair is a mess, strands falling out of her small bun. Her priestess garbs are slightly rumpled and he spies the chain of his necklace around her neck and _she’s so beautiful_. He reminisces how the uchiwa fits her so well and his fingers itch to tug it out beneath her kosode, for her to bear it proudly, just as everyone in his family does.

–how things could so naturally fall into place with her, them together, her as a part of his family, her as his– 

Fuck.

 _No_.

“Um… Sasuke…?” 

He realizes he’s been staring at her the last few minutes and his cheeks and ears begin to burn. Clearing his throat, he nods his head to the door.

“Yes, mother and Itachi took Izumi home and Shisui went to pick up more items.”

“Oh okay...”

They walk through the streets in silence. The sun has begun to descend and he sees the normal red glow of the rays filtering the sky, bleeding into the clouds. As he peers down at her, watching her smile and wave to the villagers they pass by, he sees the brilliance of the sunset radiate off her. He sees pinks, oranges, purples, greens– a kaleidoscope of colors bursting over her, flowing into the red, into his black and white vision. 

He immediately looks straight ahead when her head tilts up in his direction.

“I can carry some of those…?” She offers, her fingers grazing the bags.

“It’s fine.”

Sakura lets out a small sigh, moving her attention ahead and they proceed to the Uchiha residence in more silence. Until he decides to break it.

“Your birthday,” he clears his dry dry throat. “Your birthday is coming up?”

The reddening of her cheeks is exemplified beneath the sunset glow. 

“Ah yes, it’s in a couple of weeks actually. Mikoto, Izumi, _and_ Shisui refused to leave me alone until I told them and well, here we are. And they’ve been planning a party even though I’ve told them it’s not necessary… Really, I don’t want them to go through all this trouble–”

“You’re no trouble, Sakura.” The words escape his mouth before his brain can catch up.

“–and I really don’t– oh. Um…” she tucks a fallen strand of hair behind her ear and he’s fucking _endeared_. “Thank you…”

He shrugs, trying to play nonchalant. “It’s been a while since they’ve been able to throw a proper birthday party. Honestly, with your birthday there’s a higher probability mother will be less likely to throw one for myself or Itachi.”

“Not a fan of parties? I think I see that,” he can hear the mirth in her tone. “You and Itachi have very similar mannerisms, more the quiet types. Shisui seems to be quite the planner and partier, however. Very much has to be a part of the fun.”

“Tch. Shisui’s adopted.”

She laughs, hearty and pleasant. 

( _he wants to hear it for the rest of his life_ ) 

“I might actually believe that if you didn’t share the same features.” Her fingers push aside pieces of his bangs and his lungs still. “Like your hair…”

His pulse races as her hand quickly retracts and he notes their pace has slowed as they near the gates to the compound. They stride through the entrance side by side and move towards the main house, lingering in the dining hall.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Sasuke finds his words continue to leave his mouth before he can properly think them through.

She snorts. “Did Shisui ask you to ask me? I swear, he won’t take no for an answer. I don’t _need_ anything, I’m perfectly content with everything I have with me.”

“It’s not for Shisui.”

“Oh? Then who–” She sucks in a breath when she looks up at him. “Um I– I–” 

“Sasuke.” His father emerges from the kitchen, interrupting whatever she might have said. “When you are finished escorting Sakura-san, come to the study.”

“Yes father.”

“Fugaku-san,” Sakura offers a small bow.

His father tilts his head in return and Sasuke thinks his normally rigid appearance softens ever so minutely. 

“Sakura-san. I hope you enjoy your new articles of clothing. Mikoto was just telling me about them.” 

“I– yes sir. Thank you.”

“Hn.” He nods and disappears down the hall.

Silently, they walk to her room and he sets her bags outside the door, waiting as she slides the door open. The smell of incense, herbs, and flowers fill his senses and he takes a deep breath. When he drops his gaze down to her, her eyes are focused, intent on his lower face and she looks like she wants to say something.

He blood sings when he realizes exactly what she’s looking at, unspoken words and feelings swimming in green pools. His gaze drops and his chest heaves as her bottom lip catches between her teeth. He swallows, refocusing on her eyes, observing as they become hazy.

Then she looks up and away, pressing her lips together, her hands fisting on her hakama and she takes a step back.

He forces himself to depart without a word, his pulse thrashing as he makes his way to his fathers study where he knows a new mission awaits. A new mission that will help take his mind off of her and the unspoken request she just made.

* * *

Oh gods.

She just– What did she just _do_.

Dizzily, she places the bags gently beside her dresser and leans against it, eyes closed, fingers toying with the delicate chain around her neck, repeating his question over and over _what do you want for your birthday_. She wants– what she _wants_ – 

_Dammit_.

What she _wants_ is too much. It’s too much to ask for. Too much to expect for him to do. Too much of a risk. _It’s too damn much_. Her ears ring as she sits on her bed, heart beating loudly against her ribcage. 

Looking to distract her thoughts, she gathers up some parchment and a pen intent on writing back home. And she writes several letters, one to Ino, one to Hinata, one to Tenten, and one to Tsunade. The smell of dinner wafts into her room and she sets the pen down, tying together the papers so they are ready to send out first thing in the morning.

Once she joins the Uchiha family in the dining room, she checks on Izumi who appears to be feeling much better after a little nap, chats with Itachi over the next batch of herbs she’ll be making, and laughs at Shisui’s flirting. She helps Mikoto set the table and brings the food out and watches Sasuke and Fugaku emerge from the hall.

Sakura finds her gaze moving towards Sasuke throughout the dinner despite her rational brain telling her to _stop looking at him._ More specifically– she observes the smallest quirk of his lips when Mikoto berates Shisui before they fall into the normal quiet. She pays heady attention to the way his tongue darts out to lick across his bottom lip and how his mouth rounds to take in the spoon– 

And then she spends the rest of the dinner with her eyes down, heart pounding, trying to think of anything and everything except his mouth because it’s too much.

When dinner is over and all the dishes have been cleaned, everyone bids a good night and she proceeds to her room. She stops in front of his (Sasuke followed Fugaku back into the study once everything was cleaned up so she knows he’s not in there) and gently places her hand on the door. She imagines it appears similar to Itachi and Izumi’s home and like most of the Uchiha household– clean, simple, organized. 

Sighing, she moves the short distance between his room and hers and slides her door shut, forehead hitting the hard wood.

She’s unsure how long she stands there, tapping her head against it, berating herself for her actions, spoken and unspoken, before her neck begins to prickle and her arms erupt in goosebumps. She watches a shadow fall under the crack and there’s the slightest push against her door. A shaky breath is released as she presses her hands to the wood. 

( _and she thinks maybe she can feel the warmth of his body soaking through her fingertips as if there was no barrier between them_ )

She desperately wants to open the door to see him, to say something to him (at the very least tell him to not bleed all over her floor this time) but she’s unsure if those proper words will form out of her mouth. So she stays pressed to her bedroom door, staring at his silhouette (and she wonders if this is his way to rectify his mistake from the other day, making it less noticeable that he’s stopping by her room before he leaves).

As she lies in bed, staring out into the dark courtyard faintly lit by the crescent moon, she reprimands herself, says several prayers, and tells herself over and over what she wants is not okay. And it’ll only bring hurt because she can’t stay here, can’t be a permanent part of his life no matter _how much she desires it_ because– 

( _she desires it so badly the longer she spends here, engulfed in this family, being around him, everything just feels so normal, as if she was at the shrine interacting with her family there, and it could all be so so easy to stay, to fall further down this whole of damnation_ )

–it’s simply an impossible thing to ask for, unreasonable to want.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a hoe. i rewrote several parts and cut out scenes and yeah. the next chapter, however, is coming along nicely and i'm pretty excited for what's in store ;) next update might come out a little faster.
> 
> i will neither confirm nor deny any potential foreshadowing you may find in this. also, was there enough tension? my goal is to upstage myself as the story progresses looool. 
> 
> hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter!! your support blows me away!! comments bring me joy, short or long and are always welcome and appreciated and they let me know what you think!! drop an emoji/kudos if you can/whatever else. i see you and i love you!! thank you so much for reading!!!!
> 
> ❤️️ = I love this story!  
> 🔥 = this was hot!  
> 💐 = thank you for sharing this  
> 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!  
> 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!  
> 😱 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER  
> 😢 = you got me right in the feels  
> 🤯 = mind blown  
> 🤬 = mfing cliffhanger  
> 😩 = whyyyyyyy?!?!?


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